Unusual Fascinations
by Mesmerist
Summary: Set in the Goblet of Fire, Harry and Hermione each have a strange awakening after a demonstration of the Unforgivable Curses during that fateful Defense Against the Dark Arts class. How different is a Harry Potter with one deviant obsession, a twisted kink? Perhaps not at all, or perhaps incredibly so in the most meaningful of ways. Webs of pairings centered around Harry.
1. Goblet of Fire 14 and 15

The following story is meant for more mature audiences and the rating is earned. I do not own or lay any claim to Harry Potter or any of Rowling's works. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy. For those who notice the names of the chapters, they correspond to the actual chapters that they would occur in the Goblet of Fire.

 **Unusual Fascinations**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Mesmerist

 _The First Night_

 _It was the dead of night and quite close to the witching hour when Harry Potter tossed and turned on his four-poster bed. Some would have called it fitful had he been asleep yet Harry, unfortunately, was still quite awake. What truly bothered Harry, however, was not the cause of his frustration but rather the events that forced it onto his attention in the first place.  
_

 _Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Champion of the Light against Voldemort, the Slayer of Basilisks, and whatever host of other titles and epithets…_

… _had an_ erection _._

 _It was terrible and thrilling all at the same time. Yes, he had the experience on and off throughout his life, at times innocently during the mornings and at others for causes he did not quite understand. But this was a new experience for Harry altogether. This was brought on through circumstances that he was quite aware of and, while disgusted, ones he was helpless but to entertain._

 _Oh yes, Harry knew about women. He knew about attraction and the fairer sex. It was impossible for a boy of any age, surrounded by other adolescent men in the cramped setting of a boarding school, to ignore the playground education that inevitably followed with hushed whispers and wondering glances at what lay beneath their female classmates' robes. Not to mention having roommates like Seamus and Ron around, it was even harder to avoid such topics of conversation._

 _But Harry Potter, bless his soul, had never really thought of girls and sex in that way before. It was always such a nebulous concept, lust and attraction. In his head, he knew he had crushes and he knew that there were girls that were prettier than others, but that was fairly academic knowledge before tonight. He was never aware of them until… until that lesson._

 _Harry cursed a bit under his breath as he felt himself stiffen and strain against his mattress at the memory of the class. He had been trying to ignore the cause, trying so hard, but all that accomplished was to bring the memory even closer to the surface of his mind's eye. And even that turn of phrase only lent more fuel to the fire of his arousal, summoning images of what he remembered behind his closed eyes._

Pretty Hermione Granger, always so tense, always so frustrated and anxious, stood before him with the most serene and relaxed smile that he had ever seen on her in his life. She thought nothing of bending her arms into wings, her hands pushing her breasts together as she flapped at her elbows in an imitation of a chicken. For a moment, she looked squarely into his eyes with that blissful, happy gaze and Harry felt his heart leap to his throat and a fire light in his belly. He sat there transfixed in his seat at the front of the classroom, expecting something that he didn't know but wanted very badly to happen from Hermione.

And when Hermione bent down, her head dropping lower, the flash of expectation turned to realization that burned at Harry in ways not even Voldemort could have elicited. He wanted her lips to go to below his waist, for her mouth to do unspeakable things to his flesh. The sudden awareness made Harry pale as a sheet even though he felt like a furnace under his collar. But Hermione bent further, lower than what was needed in his imagination, and she let out innocent clucks, scratching the floor of the Defense classroom and searching for feed as she obeyed the instructions of her trance.

 _Harry licked his lips. That same fire was burning again, undeniable to him. His sleeping clothes were so tight to him now, so constricting. He unbuttoned his pajamas, hoping for some relief against the onslaught of memories, but it was useless. The stream of fantasies continues to assault him._

Lavender Brown, much more a woman than any other in his year, sat upon the teacher's desk with all her curves that refused to be hidden by uniform or robes. Diligently she chittered and chirped, a squirrel busying herself with her nuts, and already that little snippet had done more than enough to stoke Harry's fire in the classroom.

Then like any good squirrel, Lavender felt the undeniable urge to bury her stores. Bending down, she pawed and scraped at the wood beneath her, and Harry couldn't help but follow the curve of her shoulders, the small of her back, and the silhouette of her delicious ass and legs. He did not know how or why he had thought of Lavender as succulent, but the word fit instantly in his mind, his mouth watering and his appetite for the girl like that of a starving prisoner. She was presenting herself like the animal she was, the animal she was made to be. Wriggling her ass that was not meant to be in a skirt but free to show herself to her mate as nature intended. And all that Lavender could do was continue to follow her suggestions, to be the squirrel that she was told she was.

 _The girls, no, the young women that flitted all through Harry's mind compelled him more than the curse that they were subjected to that afternoon. Seeing them like that, their faces in their trances, so content, so free, so incredibly satisfied, was driving Harry mad with need. He had never touched himself, not before tonight. He thought it so strange and dirty and never saw what the great fuss was about, but now he knew. There was no other choice, he thought, as his hand snaked down and under the untied waist of his pajamas. Especially after the girl he knew was coming next._

She was a vision of beauty and perfection. Her platinum blonde hair flowed around her like a halo and her silver eyes were the picture of serenity enhanced by the Imperius that she wore better than the finest evening gown. Her display was just as innocent as the other girls', just as innocuous and inane though it had driven Harry wild. But hers was the moment that Harry knew he was ruined.

Daphne Greengrass, radiant Purblood princess of the House of Slytherin, danced for his pleasure. In his mind, Harry knew this was just a display of an Unforgivable. That this was meant to educate and inform. That Daphne wasn't under his control, completely and undeniably bound to serve for his pleasure at her own. But that didn't matter. Not to his heart, not to the burning in his loins.

She must have had lessons as it wasn't so far of a stretch to imagine a girl of her breeding taking ballet in her youth. When she was told to dance, it was with practiced grace and effortless poise that Daphne plied her body. She stretched, she dipped, she showed off her legs and her curves and thrust her chest out as she displayed herself to the class. And all with that smile, Harry noticed as his breathing became ragged and his knuckles wore white on his grip of the desk's edge. That damnable, mindless, thoughtless smile of pure and warm bliss.

 _It was a dirty, messy affair when Harry came. His hand was only partway out of his pants and his grip was as much cloth as it was his fingers. But it was long, and it was complete, and in its own way, it was as perfect as the girls hypnotized and helpless in their enchantment. And Harry shuddered and knew that he was hopelessly addicted. He had signed himself over to a demon he knew he had only made the acquaintance of. Other girls flashed through his thoughts, recollections of that class recurring as he spent himself into his palm and his sheets. Pretty Hermione, Sultry Lavender, and even girls he never cared for before like Parvati Patil and that hanger-on Parkinson, they all were now women held under a spell that made them irresistible to Harry. Hermione might have started it all, but Daphne was what broke Harry. Daphne was what made Harry know his new purpose in life, and how lost he would now be. Daphne and Hermione, the perfect creatures that he only came to know because of how the Imperius curse made them._

 _Harry had to learn the spell. Harry had to become the master of the Unforgivable to be the master of whom he wanted…_

 **The Day After and Every Day Since**

It was so strange to have conviction in something. Harry felt abuzz with energy, like he could vibrate off into space at any moment. All through his life, he had so little control. Control over his fate and destiny always seemed to be at the whims and wills of people outside of himself. Voldemort, his parents' legacy, Dumbledore, even the public in general all claimed him and his actions in one way or another. It was just as heavy a realization for him as his sudden galvanized need of his deviancy. But he had a purpose now, as twisted as it was.

And it felt good.

His desire troubled him, it honestly did. Why did he want to snuff out the wills of girls so badly? Why, of all things, was this what he knew he needed for the rest of his life? It certainly did feel as if the desire to control others was a cause of all this, of the helplessness he had suffered. Did that make him a bad person? Was this curiosity and fantasy any worse than anyone else's? The thoughts turned over and over in Harry's mind so much that most of the day was a blur. He only barely registered the excitement over the Tournament. Everything felt like background noise over the constant philosophical and moral debate he had with himself and the undeniable knowledge that he had to at least know more about the spell when something finally pierced through the fog.

"… brainwashed."

"What was that?" Harry said, almost snapping at Hermione. It was enough to make a few of their tablemates to glance at Harry's direction, but those quickly looked away when they realized that he was being brought into Hermione's tirade.

"Just… just that the elves have been conditioned to this all their lives. They don't know any better." Hermione repeated herself, a little surprised but heartened by Harry's attention. She would have thought differently if she knew that it was just so Harry could see her lips form the word again and to hear her say that blessed sound in her own voice. And that was when the first evil seed took root in Harry's heart. That's when he really saw Hermione, for the second time.

Hermione had already blossomed into a gorgeous young woman. Harry never noticed it before, but his sexual awakening had caused him to look deeper now more than ever. He looked past the frizzy hair and the awkward teeth of the girl. Those were just a few details that in the past had stopped him from taking her as a whole. Her face was exceptionally pretty, in spite of the bags under her eyes and that constant look of worry. How Harry longed to smooth Hermione's countenance and thoughts out, back to that calm delight that he knew was hidden in her and could only be coaxed out with her trance. Her figure was something else as well, and if he remembered those tensed shoulders and hunched back bent over in books and discussion, when relaxed, hid a lithe and slim beauty that could turn any man's head with a little effort. It scared Harry that he could judge Hermione, objectify her on her looks alone so readily. It didn't help that the only argument of substance that he had against that, that the deeper meaning of his attraction was that he wanted to have her submit to his will.

The internal war still raged on. Harry was still good. He still wanted a peaceful world. He didn't want to kill any muggleborns or start another war. He was still very much dedicated to ending Voldemort if it was in his power. And he didn't want to hurt Hermione, just bring her pleasure that she never knew she wanted. It was due to those small, flimsy reasons that he found himself saying what he knew would damn him even further.

"But what if it was brainwashing?" Harry offered, looking around conspiratorially and happy that no one else was entertaining Hermione.

"Actual… brainwashing?" Hermione repeated, and as much as it aroused Harry to hear her say so again, it was also quite frustrating that Hermione, smart as she was, didn't seem to pick up on what he was suggesting.

"Well, just think of it. There are so many curses and charms that nudge someone into doing what you want. Why not the same for house elves?" Harry shrugged, trying his best to seem nonchalant. He wasn't sure of his acting skills, but he hoped that Hermione was too frazzled or incensed to notice.

"Come of it, mate. The little buggers just like helping wizards out." Ron said in between stuffing his face, and it was clear to Harry that the Weasley was trying to nip this in the bud, sensing that Hermione was about to take this tangent and run. It was another stab of guilt for Harry that it was exactly what he wanted.

But it had the opposite effect of what Ronald intended when the idea caught on with Hermione and she broke out into a smile that almost rivaled the one she had under trance, in Harry's opinion.

"Oh Harry! You're brilliant! Of course there must be some magical reason for this compulsion. Why on Earth would they debase themselves in such a way? Sometimes, Harry, I could just kiss you!" she beamed, gathering her books up and rushing off to what they all knew was some breakfast time library perusing.

"You've done it now, Harry. I can't wait to hear all the new conspiracy theories she'll be spouting when she comes back…" Ron grumbled, almost losing his appetite, but not quite. Harry just nodded absently, the consequences already blooming in his mind. He didn't really think too much at the time, but he realized that he had just given himself the best chance of learning about mind magic that he could. He might have the drive and the will to use the spell, but Hermione would definitely sniff out the knowledge and knowhow to do it. It felt even more like taking control of his destiny, and as much as Harry knew the darkness of that path, he felt himself relishing the thought.

He only had a moment before the crushing guilt that always seemed to follow these thoughts could prick at his heart when the flurry and rushing of owl wings interrupted his musings for that morning.

* * *

 _Imperio_

* * *

While it was interesting to hear Ron switch gears so quickly between hero worship and lechery, only one of the two topics that his best friend brought up held any weight in Harry's mind.

"Yes… definitely a Veela or something close to it." He mused, letting Ron wax on about Beauxbaton girls for an extra thirty seconds before switching back to his idol, Krum. Hermione groaned and menaced Harry with a glare for bringing that sore spot up, and Harry could only shrug and smile at the harried girl. He was too busy thinking about the past events of the day.

Ever since his eyes had been opened to the charms of the ladies, it was hard not noticing all the fit girls that Hogwarts was literally chock full of. Susan Bones suddenly entered Harry's radar, as well as noticing just why Fred and George allowed Angelina and Katie to hold such a leash on them. Now the Slytherin women's reputation for being seductresses was one that he felt keenly, and he knew for a fact that the hot feeling inside his stomach whenever he looked at Cho Chang was more than just indigestion. All of these impure thoughts were always followed by the even more sinister image of each girl smiling in the warm, thoughtless embrace of the Imperius Curse.

The guilt was eating Harry up inside, and while the rest of the castle held the air of excitement that the arrival of the Tournament participants, it was all Harry could do to keep the gloom from showing on his face. Even Hermione's bubbling report only served to remind him of his sinful wants. She had found a plethora of information about which mind-altering spells could possibly be the culprit of an entire species being enslaved that only served to stoke Harry's lust and the wrenching remorse that followed. He was seriously debating on whether or not he should just let the cloud over his head rain down and beg off the welcoming feast.

He was glad he didn't.

Seeing the Beauxbatons girls electrified him. While he didn't turn into a blubbering simp like Ronald or the rest of the male population of Hogwarts at the sight of the young women, never before had he thought he would appreciate the collection of beauty as he did now. Each pretty face brought the flash of that same girl in a calm and peaceful trance, and much to Harry's dismay he was finding it harder and harder to stop such images from being his normal reaction.

Especially terrifying was the meeting with the vision Ron had an obsession over, one that he found himself beginning to share. Harry knew that in the past he may not even have noticed the creeping tendrils of the stunning young woman's glamour, but now that he found his sensitivity to mind-bending magic and his experience at the World Cup, he would never mistake the veela's aura for anything else.

It led to a weird standoff with the girl when she asked for his bouillabaisse. There was recognition in both their eyes there. Harry was sure that she knew her effect on boys, and it must have been some surprise to see one that wasn't tripping over himself to serve her. But on that note, it must have also been strange to have one stare at her so intensely as Harry knew he was doing at the time. He wondered what kind of impression he made on the Beauxbaton student, good or bad, because Harry was sure that he must have had one on her.

Harry was brought back to Earth when he felt delicate fingers brushing at his side and the rustling of paper rubbing against him in his pocket. He turned to see Hermione drawing her hand back and giving him a meaningful look. Before Harry could say anything, someone called out the password for the Fat Lady's portrait and Hermione hurried off to the girls' quarters, no doubt trying to get away from Ron's shift into complaining about the sorry state of affairs that had the Durmstrang school sitting in with the slimy Slytherin snakes. Truth be told, Harry wanted to follow her, and not for the reasons of his newfound desire for the fairer sex.

* * *

 _Imperio_

* * *

While there were a few students mulling about in the Common Room, the Gryffindor tower was unusually sparse for a Friday evening. Harry had no doubt that it was something to do with the anticipation everyone had for the Goblet and tomorrow's ceremonies. Unlike all the other students that had suddenly decided to taking a liking of being an early bird, he and Hermione were huddled together in one of the study tables. That a strange sight even if it was a normal Friday night.

"It took nearly all of our free periods, but I think I've found something, Harry. You were right. Completely and absolutely right. The elves… they're all under a spell!" Hermione said excitedly, hovering somewhere in between keeping her voice low and squealing in delight because no one was around to hear her anyway. For a clandestine rendezvous hastily written on a secret note, Hermione certainly wasn't very stealthy about any of this.

While Harry didn't really care much for this information, not really fancying any of Dobby's kind to be very attractive, this was still news that made the fire inside him roar to life. Magic so powerful and so pervasive that it would make happy servants out of an entire race? For once Harry let himself bask in such villainous thoughts because it didn't seem like Hermione was quite finished and he would rather save his guilt for later when he had all the facts.

"Here, a century before Merlin. The ancestors of house elves today in Roman times swore fealty to wizards in exchange for protection and a home. Apparently, their magic was so wild and ephemeral that it wasn't unheard of for elves to just pop to nonexistence due to their nature!" Hermione said excitedly, bringing out a history tome and pointing to a comical depiction of an elf exploding into confetti. Hermione then turned the page to reveal another scene, where the elves were subsequently shown doing something with their fingers and being zapped by a human, presumably a wizard, and then bowing at the human's feet.

"At first I looked through Confundus and Compulsion charms, but then I realized that it would have had to have been something much more powerful than that. A spell that never wore off and that stayed with the elves all throughout their lives and beyond!" Hermione rambled on, and part of Harry felt the tug of destiny, as if he knew what Hermione was about to say even though he had no clue what she was hinting at.

"All of the elves, each and every single one of them, are under the Imperius!" She exclaimed, flipping the page one last time to show a much larger picture of the elf, with swirling eyes and a wide grin, with the big, blocky Roman letters that even Harry could make out as the very spell that started him on this path.

"Of course… the Imperius Curse…" Harry whispered in awe, tracing the Latin on the page and suddenly realizing the scope and magnitude of what the spell could be made to do. Apparently Hermione wasn't finished, and she took Harry's look of reverence as enthusiasm.

"No… not the Curse… the _Charm_!" she said in an elated fashion, snapping the book closed and bringing Harry to stare right into her manic eyes. When his wits came back to him from the surprise, his mind caught up to the implications and he found that Hermione's frenetic grin was spreading on his face as well.

"It's a charm, Harry! A charm! Magic that lasts, that can be passed on to." Hermione babbled, rocking back to her chair and pulling out another book from her fluffy purse, one that apparently had no pictures as she just opened it and began to summarize for Harry. "The normal Imperius curse needs constant focus and recasting. It's always a battle of wills between the wizard and the victim. But what if the victim wasn't a victim?" Hermione rambled, her face hidden behind the textbook she brought with her.

"Here it is, in Anton and Milton's! Theories about mind magic made with consent. Blood rituals that bind in, well, a beneficial manner, apparently, but I'm sure they wouldn't have meant that. But it's not a curse, Harry. It isn't something we have to force to be broken, but something we can learn and hopefully someday reverse. The magic that's the root of all mind altering spells, the Imperius Charm."

"That makes sense. It all makes sense. That's why all the elves are still under enchantment, it isn't an Unforgivable as the Ministry would see it. And why the elves aren't damaged by it. An Imperius Curse that isn't a curse… that isn't Dark magic." Harry said, almost a whisper, drawing a furrowed brow from Hermione.

"Well, yes, another failing from our Ministry to properly identify harmful magic, but I suppose it is a stroke of luck that it isn't technically Dark. Imagine all those poor elves if they had to live with some sort of curse in their blood, and for so many generations." Hermione mused, obviously not taking the same track of the revelation as Harry did.

"In any case, there's far more to research, and I know for a fact that the books we'll need are right there in the restricted section. Oh, Harry. I know this is asking a lot of you and… and that you might think of it as just another silly cause, but please, we have to. We have to know more." Hermione pleaded, not knowing that Harry needed no convincing.

"Exactly, Hermione. We have to know more." Harry nodded, not sitting around a second longer and jogging up the stairs to his room, his snoring roommates, and most importantly, his cloak.

* * *

 _Imperio_

* * *

' _Thee Knowleydge Moste Blitheful'_ was the most beautiful book Harry had ever laid eyes on. Like many of its kind from the restricted section, the red leather Arcanum boasted an intricately charmed cover with a human face. However, unlike the screaming and agonized grimaces that were on the fronts of other books, this was something entirely different.

It was the lifelike aspect of a lovely woman, and the way her hair was embossed on to the scarlet binding reminded Harry of Ginny's pretty face, another unbidden image of the charming Weasely girl forming in his mind. It was fitting because the girl on the cover had the expression that Harry had started to dream of, the same carefree, sensual, and peaceful look that he knew could only be brought on by the spells Imperius. What drew Harry in the most were her eyes. They were deep, verdant emeralds caught in her half-lidded gaze, promising Harry so many things that he would never speak out loud but desired more than anything in his life.

Hermione, however, did not seem to share his appreciation of the book and shivered at the sight of the girl.

"Her eyes are just so… intimate…" Hermione mumbled, and Harry could only agree. The look was just as sultry as it was submissive. There was an undeniably sensual aura to the book and he could see why Hermione might have some discomfort when those eyes were giving her the same look that he saw. Hermione shivered again, though this time Harry was unsure if it was due to the draft of Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom rather than the book itself.

Getting the book was a simple matter, but finding a place to read it was another thing entirely. Every so often the book would let out a melodious sigh or whisper in an equally sultry voice, and it wouldn't do to bring any attention to themselves considering what they were researching, nearly empty Commons or not. So that was why Harry and Hermione found themselves again in the haunted lavatory in the dead of midnight, sitting on broken tiles and with only the light of their wands and the moon to illuminate their reading.

"Well, no sense in waiting any longer. Books are meant to be read, and I can think of no better cause than…" Hermione began, cradling the book in her lap and making to flip open the cover, when she stopped midsentence. Hermione's eyes rolled up to show white, and her eyelids fluttered as she swayed in place. Her hands fell limp away from the book and she continued to circle. And of course, she began to softly smile.

Harry knew that look. It was only thanks to his Seeker's reflexes that he broke himself from just staring at Hermione's beautifully becalmed face and to catching the girl as she fell to her side. If it wasn't for saving her from a nasty bump, Harry would have wanted nothing more than to savor the expression of a witch enthralled and ensorcelled.

"Wh… what happened?" Hermione mumbled just a second after she was caught, her eyelashes batting as she fought the dopey grin on her face. Harry was glad for his robes just then. It was a simple matter to close the front and hide his rising attentions. He was busy trying to right Hermione back to sitting up and making sure that his robes wouldn't accidentally open when the sound of a susurrus laugh filled the air.

"Silly child. You have known and surrendered to the touch of the Master spell. This knowledge is not meant for the likes of you…" a seductively feminine voice said, and the surprise was enough to make Hermione jump and drop the book onto the floor.

While the two teenagers should have expected something of such an obviously glamoured magical artifact, the fact that the book was now speaking to them was not something that either expected. Harry had no idea how the book managed to do it, but the woman on the cover looked both incredibly submissive yet teasing and cocky at the same time. Hermione had turned from shock to fascination, and both teenagers regarded the book with guarded curiosity.

"What is to be found inside my folds are for those that are fated to be Masters and rulers, with dominance and iron in their wills. Touch me again and you will find yourself sharing in my servitude and searching for a Master of your own for as long as your unworthy hands hold me." The book scoffed, floating and hovering a few inches off of the dusty floor. Hermione's mouth flapped open and close in indignation, while Harry's gratitude for robes just grew with the reason for his thanks. The book turned to face Harry then, and the smile on her face grew almost imperceptibly when her hypnotized eyes rested on the young man.

"But you… you are not one meant for servitude, but to enslave. You have felt the touch of my seduction, yet have resisted me… ruled me. For you, I must serve." The book simpered, dipping in what would be called a bow. "You are my Master, most glorious, most wondrous. I see in you the worthiness, the calling, the… temperament… to command me." Harry had never felt more attracted to an inanimate object than ever before in that moment. He wondered what he might have done if Hermione wasn't around. The book was, after all, the dimensions of a human head, and the face was obviously made to be as accurate a relief of a beautiful woman as possible. Before Harry could entertain any more of such thoughts, Hermione made her presence known and popped his little fantasy bubble.

"You… I… books aren't meant to be like this! How… how dare you withhold knowledge from…" Hermione goggled, making a fair imitation of a fish.

"I sense that you're not accustomed to having books spurn you, child. If you truly wish to know of me, request permission to touch me from my Master. Otherwise the strands of your servitude still linger within you. You would not wish to spend the next fortnight scratching at the ground for worms, would you?" The book sighed, before turning and floating into Harry's lap. Hermione's eyes grew wide with terror and indignation at the threat.

"Why you… you!" she said, radiating fury, but the book once again silenced her with another languid interruption.

"I am ready to serve, my Master. Your wish…. Is my command." The book simpered again, looking up with adoring eyes at Harry. And there was something else in those eyes as well, as the book smiled and bit her lip while she looked on at Harry. The young man knew it was no coincidence where the book rested on his lap, not with what was pressing on the back of her cover. Harry shifted again, though whether it was to stimulate himself further or try to relieve himself of it was anyone's guess at that point.

"No… this… this thing is going straight back to the library. I will not be treated this way by some leather-bound jezebel!" Hermione screeched. It was in that moment that Harry saw her in that way again.

There was Hermione, hair as frazzled as her nerves, always so very irritated and offended. If only she would calm down. Relax. If only she would quiet her mind, let her buzzing thoughts become still and asleep. As if Harry was being guided himself, he knew how to stop Hermione from escalating and for her to see things his way, perhaps not in the way he really wanted to, but enough for the purposes of tonight.

"Please, Hermione. For S.P.E.W. and justice, remember?" Harry said, putting a horse whisperer's lilt in his voice and touching her arm. Whatever protests that still hung on Hermione's lips seemed to be mollified at that, and her look turned from anger to confusion and eventually acceptance.

"But… well… fine…" she said, taking a deep breath and letting her shoulders drop. Harry felt the thrill of handling this woman, his woman, and wanted more. Needed more. And he knew exactly what to do for that.

"Please, um… book? Will you let Hermione read you?" Harry said carefully, unsure of what to do with the book purring at his thigh.

"Mmm… you may call me Blithe, or slave, if you wish, Master. And you must direct me… it is your place to command me, I must obey." Blithe answered, and Harry could hardly contain his blush. But, sensing the tension crackling again in the air around his companion, Harry left embarrassment for later and went on to dealing with Hermione.

"Err, alright. Blithe, you will let Hermione read you." Harry said in a stern voice, and he gasped at the warmth that seemed to flow from the tome. Blithe seemed to savor the command as well, and Harry could feel her vibrate against him in her pleasure. Slowly, the book rose to the air again and floated to Hermione.

"Be grateful that my Master has agreed with your desire. My knowledge is yours for now, slave-sister." The book sniffed.

"Excuse me?!" Hermione bristled, and Harry wondered if this would be the first time he'd see Hermione set a book on fire.

"You have surrendered to the pleasure of servitude before, just as I. In that, we are sisters. Save your indignation for other matters and take from me what you need, child." Blithe sighed, opening to her first page and floating into Hermione's reach. In a burst of tact that was unusual to Harry, he found himself again calming Hermione down with just the right words.

"Blithe, you will show Hermione respect and… um… obey her accordingly. I command you to!" Harry said, hoping that it was the right call.

"I obey, Master. Hermione, I apologize to the depths of my unworthy heart and spine. Please, forgive this slave for her disrespect. My only desire is to show you the knowledge within me." Blithe said, turning so that Hermione could see the genuine sorrow on her cover. Harry didn't know if books could cry, but he was sure that Blithe was on the verge of proving it one way or another. Thankfully, Hermione was equally turned and grimaced, now feeling guilty on her part of all things and awkwardly trying to comfort the tome.

"Oh, well. Let bygones be bygones. Just as long as you behave." Hermione said lamely, even looking to Harry as if he would coach her on how to console a book. Harry could only shrug in the same confusion.

"Ask, and I shall reveal, Hermione. I live to serve my Master and through you, I shall." Blithe said in her most submissive voice, turning again to show Hermione the first page. Within, the flowery scrawl of what Harry could only assume was Blithe's handwriting began to fill the page. Seeing what was written, Harry could only suppress a laugh while Hermione had no such reservations and moaned.

" _'Thee Knowleydge Moste Blitheful'_ or How to Turn Enemies into Friends and Friends into Slaves. Are you sure it isn't too late to return this, Harry?"

 ** _To be continued…_**

* * *

Hopefully that was enough of an intriguing start for some of you and enough to get you reading the rest.

There used to be a very intimidating and demanding author's not here, but I think we've passed a healthy threshold of reviews that the negative note is no longer needed. I will just like to say that reviews are very important for the health of interest in this story from other readers like yourself and my enthusiasm in continuing in writing it. I hope you have enjoyed the chapter so far and I hope that your review, follow, and favorite my work.


	2. Goblet of Fire 18 through 22

Small excerpts have been taken from the original Goblet of Fire text and inserted in places where there is no other option due to plot constraints. I make no claim on any Harry Potter media or the works of Rowling. As some readers may have already realized, this story is meant to show only the changes to the Goblet of Fire and not a recounting of every single detail. A look at the chapter title will show which parts of the books are being taken on an alternative path for those who wish to review them.

That being said, I hope you all enjoy the following chapter.

* * *

 **Unusual Fascinations**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Mesmerist

 _In Before Weight, But After Disaster_

"I can't believe you, Harry Potter."

It was quite rare for Hermione to add a teasing note to her voice, but Harry didn't have to wonder why. Blushing bright red, he brought his eyes back down to look at the blasting end of his skrewt while they walked the chitinous monsters around the lake. He had been caught red handed staring at Daphne Greengrass, and by none other than the second object of his affections of all people.

"It's a mite better distraction than thinking about Ron." Harry said sullenly, kicking a smoothened rock in his path. He came to regret it almost instantly when the pebble skimmed off the side of the beast and drew out an angry clacking from the creature. Hermione wouldn't be dissuaded, not even by threat of an explosive makeover.

"You're not even trying to deny it? Now that really isn't the Harry Potter that I'm familiar with." Hermione laughed, half in disbelief and half in what annoyingly sounded like smugness. Harry cursed himself again at that. Of all the times for Hermione to be actively perceptive, why did it have to be now?

"Maybe I have changed then." He said, not really knowing whether he meant the words for Hermione or himself. That sort of thinking was never far from his mind.

"I suppose it was only a matter of time. I'm disappointed that it wasn't Ginny that caught your eye with the way that girl tries, but I'm not surprised that you fancy Daphne." Hermione said carefully, and Harry could read it on the girl's face that she was intrigued he was allowing the topic to continue.

"It's not hard. A better question would be why haven't I noticed her until now?" he shrugged and already he could see the almost imperceptible way that Hermione's eyes widened whenever she tried to act coolly to stimulating information. He felt a sort of pride that his newfound appreciation of the female form was considered in the same league as a curriculum spell for his bookish friend. She actually walked in silence for a moment, no doubt gathering her thoughts in a way that would lead to more tidbits on this new development.

"You've never cared before, Harry. It's just odd that you're starting now considering everything that's happening around you." Hermione noted, playing with the strap of her leash.

"Daphne isn't the only pretty girl in the world, Hermione. And besides, a glance here and there doesn't mean that I'm mooning over her like a puppy." Harry said, hoping the reasoning was logical enough to cover up the fact that he was lying through his teeth. He knew that Hermione meant more than just appreciating any pretty girl that came across him.

"It's actually quite understandable. After all that's been happening to you through the years? Finding time for girls seems like a waste, doesn't it?" Hermione mused.

"I wouldn't say that. Spending time with you is the furthest thing from a waste, Hermione." Harry said and it was only when Hermione blushed in return and pretended to look at her skrewt that Harry realized how incredibly charming and smooth his line was. He was glad that Hermione had turned away because he did not want the girl to see just how embarrassed he was for saying such a thing.

Harry knew that was starting to change, and even though he wanted to know where his new feelings were leading him, Harry wanted to take things in his own stride. It wouldn't do to just rely on accidents. So he cleared his throat and offered them both a sensible exit from the moment.

"And how has, err, Blithe been?" he said, lowering his voice even though there were no other students within a few paces on either side of them. Hermione seemed to share his sense of caution and collected herself, facing him without looking into his eyes.

"I can't say that I like the circumstances. She's even worse than the house elves with the way she's taken with you. But after that… incident… she almost treats me the same way she did when she first saw you." Hermione said, visibly uncomfortable but powering through since it was for a worthy cause.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Strange luck, eh? At least it worked out in our favor." Harry replied, trying not to bring the particulars up either, though he was of the opposite mind as Hermione when thinking of Blithe's actions. "Did you want me to take her off your hands for a while?" he said with honest concern.

"No… no. I know how to deal with her now. She barely makes a sound anymore after I asked her not to and a silencing charm in my trunk is enough when I have to leave her in the room." Hermione sighed, the memory apparently a relief to her.

"She's revealed a lot about the house elf situation that I'm sure would never have been written down anywhere else. Giving an elf clothes is actually some sort of counter-charm to the Imperius." This was the moment where Harry knew Hermione would become lost in her own thoughts and that he was little more than an audience for her lecture. It was just an odd first for him that he actually wanted very much to know every little detail that his friend had to teach him.

"It seemed rather arbitrary to me, but there were some practices of a master serving a slave to signify that their ownership had ended in the past. It was a powerful gesture, and you know how those things collected a sort of magic on their own after a while. But that's where things get interesting." Hermione smiled, looking Harry straight in the eye without a trace of the earlier awkwardness between the two of them.

"The original ritual, the first binding? It was worded so broadly that all wizards and witches were considered potential owners for the elves. Charms usually work like a circuit, and this one was built with so many parallels that there would never be a way to stop the elves from feeling the need to serve!" she rambled, using the skrewt's leash in an example that Harry didn't quite understand.

If only they weren't talking about elves, Harry thought. Actually, it was probably a good thing that they were speaking in terms of the strange little beings. Harry didn't want to think about what his reaction might have been if he replaced a few choice words in Hermione's speech. He stopped thinking about such things and tuned back into Hermione's voice.

"But those criteria are exactly why you have special cases like Dobby! It's so incredibly vague that while most elves serve in the spirit of the charm, technically you can have elves that don't have to be owned at all. The Hogwarts elves are a perfect example. As long as they fulfill the need to serve wizards, they can exist without being slaves!" Hermione was getting excited now, and Harry wondered if he had to remind Hermione that she was trying to keep this conversation a secret.

"If the elves themselves can stretch it to the point that Dobby has, then the wording can be manipulated or… or even changed! The binding already has so many breaks and moments of being countered with clothes that I'm sure that there has to be a way to do so. At least so that we can show the elves they can serve themselves, and maybe that might weaken the circuit even more! There are just so many things to consider that I just…" Hermione said, her hands working animatedly and her hair bobbing up and down while she spoke that when she stopped Harry almost thought that Hermione had suffered a stroke.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione forced herself back down to Earth. Harry was glad because the way that Hermione shook her leash didn't seem to agree with her crab monster and he really didn't want a fiery interruption to their discussion.

"I've only scratched the surface, and Blithe has exactly what I need to get to the bottom of this whole system. You don't know what it means to me that I can actually see a solution to this mess rather than just a struggle, Harry." Hermione beamed, and Harry could only nod dumbly at the amount of knowledge that Hermione just dropped onto his unprepared lap.

"So… right. You'll be keeping her for another few days then?" Harry said, not really knowing how to react.

Hermione just laughed and nodded, looping her hand in Harry's.

"Yes, Master Potter. As that is your command." Hermione joked, imitating Blithe's saccharine voice.

If only the witch knew what she was doing to her Master Potter…

* * *

 **A Chapter of Yeses** _  
_

As much as Harry wanted to dedicate more time and effort to his new project, the world had an ugly way of reminding him that he was, well, Harry Potter.

The weighing of the wands was a debacle that he would rather not have repeated but knew to be in his future as long as the Tournament continued. Just the thought of dealing with that Skeeter woman again was enough to turn his stomach. And the following article was even more vomit inducing. At least it gave him a secret thrill to agree with one of the flourishes. Harry didn't know why he took such pleasure in considering Hermione a stunningly pretty girl, but apparently the personal secret was enough to make him giddy.

The weighing did give Harry something to consider. Olivander's exchange with Fleur confirmed his suspicions and provided a good distraction against the looming plot against his life that was the Triwizard Tournament. Perhaps he stared too much again because Fleur met his eyes on her way back to her seat.

He thought for sure that he was in for another patronizing comment from the girl, and Fleur looked about ready to give it. Just as the start of a smug little grin began to prick at the sides of her mouth, however, Fleur's brow knit in confusion and the girl seemed to crash down to earth from her gliding pace. The falter in her step was only for a moment and it took a Seeker's instinct to catch it, but Harry couldn't ignore that something about him had given Fleur reason to pause.

Before Harry could even consider anything about how she acted, or even process that she looked down at her feet instead of meeting his gaze again, Diggory returning to his place broke his line of sight on the Beauxbatons champion. Harry only sensed that something was happening between the two of them, but for now he had no clue as to what it could be.

Forming theories on what was going on in Fleur's mind would have to wait. The real world intruded on his thoughts again, this time in the soft voice of Mr. Olivander. Gulping down the lump that had sneakily formed in his throat, Harry stepped forward and resumed his duties as the unwilling fourth champion.

 _Imperio_

"You had her fix them." Harry whispered as loud as he could without bringing Madam Pince's attention to their table. Hermione looked like she was trying to fight a blush and ducked her head back down to their Charms research.

While things were less exciting around Hermione, Harry found that he wasn't missing Ron as much as he had expected. Spending more time with Hermione was a bit of a respite from the evil looks and ill intentions of two thirds of the school, and considering how deeply they delved into Charms studies for their other project, Harry discovered that he was having an easier time with Flitwick's class as well .

And of course, it also meant more time with Hermione.

"You… you noticed?" she whispered, though her silence had nothing to do with avoiding the librarian's keen senses.

Harry had given himself away again. How could he tell her that he started noticing the movement of her lips whenever she came across a new spell or incantation that she wanted to commit to memory? There was no way he would let her know how painfully aware he was of the soft bows of her mouth or how delicious they seemed when her tongue slid over them and made them shine. It was already bad enough that she knew he was staring.

"Yeah, I reckon I did." Harry said evenly, looking back down at the papers with Hermione's notes on the Imperius Charm hidden underneath a Summoning textbook. "… it suits you." He added. He didn't know why, maybe it was the thundering of his chest or the hormones in his bloodstream, but it just had to be said.

He thought he saw the hint of a smile underneath all the frizzy hair and the sheaves of paper between them.

"Thank you, Harry."

That and her blush was all that Hermione had to say on the matter.

Not every lunch period was as charged as that one particular meeting. While each time afterwards had Hermione smiling brightly in greeting as soon as she saw Harry slide into the seat opposite of her, her research and Harry' clumsy yet heartfelt effort in understanding what she uncovered from Blithe moved gradually. It was only through Hermione's perseverance that they finally had a breakthrough even though the specter of the First Task was beginning to lurk uncomfortably near for Harry.

He thought it was strange that Hermione didn't have any of their materials set out on their usual table when he met up with her. One look at the extra-large grin was plastered on her face and the way she immediately shot up and dragged him to the exit of the library was enough of a sign for Harry that she was on to something big.

"The circuit!" she let out in a wheeze as soon as they stepped over the threshold of the library.

"Excuse me?" Harry said.

Hermione waved off the look of confusion on Harry's face and took his hand to march the boy off and away. It took a moment for Harry to stop thinking about how small and delicate Hermione's hand was in his before he realized that she had been talking about the Imperius nonstop since they left.

"… and it can't be a parallel circuit at that scale anymore! Then you can finally begin to counter the Imperius without damaging the original intent of the contract and all the house elves will have a choice in how they want to serve! It isn't the solution I was expecting, but I suppose it has to be a compromise since the alternative would be having every house elf pop like a balloon the moment the spell dissolves."

"You mean to tell me that you… you've found a way to reverse it?" Harry said, trying not to let the disappointment seep into his voice. While Harry had expected this as a possible outcome, he still wished that he had learned at least something about the Imperius charm from Hermione before she cracked the spell to neutralize it. At least it wasn't a total loss. He still had Blithe, and while it might take him longer to-

"No. I've found a way to cast it."

Hearing Hermione say those words was enough to stop Harry in his tracks. This worked in his favor as Hermione still held on tightly to his hand and had to stop as well or end up as a tangle of limbs on the cold floor.

"You want to cast the Imp… you want to cast _that_ charm?" Harry boggled, nearly blurting out the name of the Unforgivable but catching himself in time so that he could hiss out his disbelief instead.

"Well, actually… I… I want you to cast it, Harry." Hermione said softly, looking up at Harry's eyes through her fringe as if asking permission, and suddenly Harry became very aware of what the two of them looked like standing in the hallway hand in hand.

It was one thing for Hermione to say that she knew how to perform the Imperius Charm, but wholly another when she practically begged Harry to be the one to seriously do it. Hermione seemed to feel the intimacy of the moment too, and she slowly pulled her hand away, though Harry felt as if the tips of her fingers seemed to linger in his palm.

"She, Blithe, explained it to me. I can't be the one to cast it because I've, umm, already surrendered before. My mind is too submissive to perform the charm. She said that it was in my nature to obey rather than command and that the magic would know." Hermione whispered, and Harry began to feel hot as the girl seemed to take up the entirety of his vision. There was something in the way that Hermione spoke, the way the she seemed to pause on certain words. Harry didn't want to think of it as just his imagination, but Hermione wouldn't possibly be using these very terms on purpose, would she?

"S-silly, right?" Harry said, letting out a strained little chuckle.

"Y… yes. Absolutely ridiculous." Hermione joined in a small giggle of her own, though this time it didn't seem like her laughter reached her eyes. No, Harry could already see there was something else there. Something familiar to him.

"A… anyway, Blithe told me how the Imp… how _that_ worked, and how it was basically just a larger version of it that considered all wizards as one single entity and all elves as another, that it was no different than one cast between two people." Hermione continued, stepping back and leaning against the stone walls of the castle as she spoke. Harry had never before been more captivated by the girl.

"However, she also told me that since… since the charm was always between two parties that agreed to it, the counter had never been attempted in the past. She told me how she thinks it's meant to be stopped, but that it was all just theory. Very sound theory, but it still..." Hermione said, looking down at her shoes. "… it still needs to be proven."

"Hermione… are you saying…" Harry said, not completing the thought. He didn't dare to hope for what he knew only Hermione could give him. And it was that moment that Hermione looked up into his eyes again and stared in the most meaningful way that she had ever had to his recollection.

"Harry… I trust you more than anyone else in the world. I know that it's so much to ask for, too much in fact, but perhaps… maybe…" she paused, wetting her lips in the way that only Harry knew he was privy to.

"… maybe you would cast it on me?"

Harry had to bite his tongue almost to the point of drawing blood. He wanted to say yes the very instant that Hermione broached the topic. At least he still had enough sense not to seem that suspicious. After enough time passed where it seemed as if Harry had thought the matter through and Hermione looked like she began to second guess her daring, Harry gave the answer the both of them wanted to hear.

"Yes, Hermione."

 _Imperio_

It would hardly be the last time that Harry would curse whoever entered him into the Tournament, but he found himself wishing extra misfortune on that sadistic individual now that the Triwizard shadow was invading every aspect of his private life. Any attempt at scheduling a midnight rendezvous with Hermione was foiled again and again by what he needed to know to survive his first trial. Even attempting to talk about it with Hermione invited interruptions of urgency from everyone that seemed concerned for his chances of succeeding. If he didn't need to have his magic to actually perform the Imperius Charm on Hermione, he would have gladly chucked the whole thing out ages ago for a moment's peace with the witch.

That wasn't to say that Harry was so single-minded that it was the only thing he thought about. On the contrary, he was still incredibly grateful to Hagrid and Sirius. He found that the terror of facing a dragon was more than enough to banish any thought of taking Hermione for himself in the length of a day. In fact, he even had to bring Hermione in to help him to prepare for the task. Harry looked back on the time with a bitter taste in his mouth knowing that those were all lost opportunities that could have served to… further S.P.E.W.'s cause. And of all times for Ron to finally come to his senses about the whole fiasco as well!

It wasn't as if he didn't appreciate having his best mate by his side again after he finished the First Task. It was just… now that he was back, Harry began to notice how constantly… there… Ron always seemed to be. It was almost impossible to find a moment alone with Hermione, and about half the times when he did manage to sneak away with her, Ron had this uncanny ability to just stumble on to them and force the two into lame and outlandish lies.

It was only after one such altercation where he and Hermione saw each other across a hallway, made their way towards each other, saw Ron coming from a random bathroom with Dean and Seamus, decided wordlessly with Hermione that there wasn't any point in even attempting to meet in the middle and go their separate ways, and Harry moving off into an empty corridor to slam his head onto a wall when Ron's impeccably bad timing actually served a purpose for once!

"C'mon, Ron. There has to be somewhere in this entire castle that you can't just magically pop in to!" Harry lamented, turning around and slumping down to the floor. Whatever small snippets that he and Hermione did exchange being barely enough, in the end they would only just begin discussing where they could try to meet up again for their special project when Ron would miraculously happen upon them.

"If only there was someone who knew the castle well enough, better than the Marauder's Map. Maybe I can ask a ghost or a portrait…" Harry began to list off in his desperation. It wasn't as if the answer would just fall in his-

"Maybe Harry Potter, sir, could be askins a house elf?" a tiny voice suggested, almost at the same time that Harry heard a pop and a weight settle onto his lap.

"D-Dobby?!" Harry exclaimed, in between a yelp and a laugh. The little elf shared the laugh and gave a little hop.

"It is Dobby, sir, it is! Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and here sir is!" Dobby said. The next second all the wind had been knocked out of him as the squealing elf hit him hard in the midriff, hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs would break.

"Ha ha! What are you doing in Hogwarts, Dobby?" Harry said, as he rubbed his sore chest.

"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" Dobby squealed excitedly. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!"

"Winky? Now there's an elf I never would have expected to hear about again." Harry said, leaning forward as the elf stepped down onto the stone floor.

"Oh, yes sir, Harry Potter, sir. Winky was in a bad sort when Dobby found her, yes she was." Dobby said glumly, fiddling with his assortment of scarves. In the two years since he'd seen the elf, Harry could tell that Dobby had taken a liking to rummaging through garage sales.

"It was hard, sir, very hard. Not many wizards be hiring an elf that wants to be payed and be free. And not so much when there are two that have been dismissed either." Dobby recollected, tears starting to well up in his gigantic eyes. Luckily Harry didn't have to break out a hanky because the elf's demeanor changed as fast as a snap of his fingers.

"And then Dobby had the idea, Harry Potter, sir! 'Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?' Dobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two house-elves?' says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!"

Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again.

"And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!"

"Is… is that a good rate for a house elf?" Harry said, genuinely curious. It was certainly more than the Dursleys ever gave him for ten years' worth of chores in their household.

"Oh yes sir, Harry Potter! Dobby is now the most well paid elf in all of Hogwarts' history, sir!" Dobby said, proudly puffing up in what looked to be a tea cozy. Harry was fairly certain it didn't take much to make that claim, but he held his tongue.

"That's great, Dobby. Fantastic." Harry said, happy for his excitable friend.

"It's all thanks to Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is a free elf because of sir, and Dobby thought of Hogwarts because of Harry Potter, sir, as well! Dobby owes so much to Harry Potter!" Dobby said, grabbing hold of the hem of Harry's robes, his eyes welling with tears once more.

"Really Dobby, it's fine. You don't have to mention it." Harry said, feeling a little uneasy. He wasn't too sure of the etiquette that a free elf had to follow, but he felt as if there were a very real possibility that Dobby was about to blow his nose into Harry's clothes.

"But Dobby does have to mention it, sir! Dobby does! Because how can Dobby tell Harry Potter where to go with his Granger and away from his Wheezy!" Dobby jumped as his mood changed again, tugging on Harry's robes.

"You do?" Harry said, scrambling to his feet at Dobby's insistence.

"Dobby knows the perfect place, sir! Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts, sir. It is known by us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement!" he said, gesticulating to somewhere up the staircase.

"Show me." Harry grinned, for once very happy that Dobby was bringing him in tow.

 _Imperio_

"Sir, is Harry Potter in need of a nap?" Dobby asked out of curiosity. The two of them had just stepped into the room guarded by Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls.

"What do you mean by that, Dobby?" Harry said, marveling at the one place in Hogwarts that promised any hint of privacy to him, or at least as much privacy as the elves could afford.

"It is a room that a person can only enter when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs" Dobby said, and Harry actually took his time and looked at what was inside his version of the Room.

It was as if someone had lifted the interior of a summer retreat cottage and shoved it inside of Hogwarts. The candle lights were low and there were a few sticks of incense wafting sweet-smelling fog into the air. There seemed to be lounges and chaises everywhere with big, fluffy pillows and a fireplace crackled merrily along on one of the walls, giving off a cozy warmth. A small kitchenette was opposite of the fireplace with a kettle already on the boil, and Harry saw the largest collection of teas that he'd ever laid eyes on. The only thing that seemed out of place in the room was a rather large bookshelf with a plethora of dusty tomes, but otherwise everything about it was made for rest and recreation.

"Dobby was just wondering is all, sir. Seeing as there's a bed in the corner over there. Is Harry Potter not getting enough sleep? Dobby can perhaps have Harry Potter's mattress turned or the pillows fluffed?" Dobby offered helpfully, pointing out the enormous king sized bed that sat in a nook all by itself that Harry missed.

Harry hoped that the firelight was enough to hide his blush. Mumbling some jumbled excuse, he thanked Dobby and ushered the both of them out of the room.

Still, he was incredibly grateful to Dobby, too-honest Room of Requirements aside. Now that he had somewhere to cast the spell on Hermione and a nice long break in between tasks, Harry was sure that he would finally achieve what the both of them had worked so very hard on for the past two months.

It was a good thing that Christmas was around the corner. He was looking forward to not having to deal with any Triwizard champion nonsense intruding on his personal activities.

 _Imperio_

While Harry and Hermione still had to discuss the particulars of the final step of their project, it was a relief for both of them that they had somewhere away from prying eyes and in apparently intimate comfort to perform the charm. Harry nevertheless had to entertain his prodigal best friend and while it was very nice to have another male perspective again, Harry had come to an uncomfortable conclusion over the past few weeks that he and Ronald spent entirely too much time together.

It was amazing that they all had a healthy relationship with Hermione given that the only time the three of them spent together seemed to consist of cramming before a class or suffering an argument between her and Ron. Ron's allergy to schoolwork was what helped Harry and Hermione work through their lack of time alone. Nothing drained Ron's attention faster than work outside of the classroom so the two of them could discuss some of the theory and wand motions regarding the Imperius Charm as long as they worked under the guise of extra credit. It was even a bit entertaining to see how fast Ron's gaze shifted and shuffled off to find what the other Gryffindors were up to whenever the topic of Runes or Transfiguration or Herbology popped up.

They were actually whispering about what Hermione expected to happen for the spell under the cover of guinea fowl and guinea pig anatomy during a lull near the end of one of McGonagall's classes when the Professor called for her students' attention.

"The Yule Ball is approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish -"

Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both looked around at Harry. Professor McGonagall ignored them.

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then -" Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.

"The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to, err, let our hair down," she said, in a disapproving voice.

Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed hard against her mouth to stifle the sound. Harry could see what was funny this time: Professor McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as though she had never let her hair down in any sense.

"But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.

Professor McGonagall called above the noise, "Potter. A word, if you please."

Harry glanced at Hermione and the girl shrugged, shouldering her bag and heading to the door. Ron was already there and was looking rather impatient. There was a strange moment where Hermione gave him a funny look as well, but the dread of being held after class took most of Harry's attention. Hopefully it wasn't anything too bad. Maybe pretending to have all that extra credit called down real homework on his head.

Feeling the same unease that he had whenever McGonagall called him for a private conversation, Harry hoped for the best and not another nasty shock as have happened in the past.

 _Imperio_

"Hermione, wait up."

Harry's mouth seemed to act without his permission and it was spreading to the rest of his body. Harry suspected he was under the Imperius himself as he jumped over the back of the couch to catch up to Hermione before she reached the girls' staircase.

"Oi, Ron. Better take some pointers from Harry." He heard Fred or George's voice say.

"What for?" Ron gormlessly replied, and Harry wondered if his best friend's obliviousness would be a good thing or a bad thing for what he was about to do.

"Never you mind little brother, darling dear- "

"- maybe you'll find out when you're older."

Harry wished he could turn around and tell off the twins for insinuating exactly what he was about to do. But his feet were a bit too quick and Hermione stopped a little faster to his call than he realized. Before he knew it, he was just a boy, standing in front of a girl, breathless and not quite sure of what was about to unfold.

To Harry's credit, it seemed as if he wasn't the only one going through a ridiculous storm of emotions inside his head. Hermione's expression flashed from curiosity to fear to elation all in the span of his trying to find the words that his brain was forcing out of his lips.

"So…" Harry fought down another strange lump of air in his throat, "… this Yule Ball thing, yeah?"

Harry wondered if Hermione was part Veela herself. Her cheeks blushed a rosy pink and her eyes began to light up and sparkle as he talked to her. He was already feeling lightheaded and he heard his pulse rushing in his ears when he saw the first hints of a smile prick at the side of Hermione's lips.

"Th… the Yule Ball… Yeah, I mean, yes. The Ball." Hermione said, her eyes fighting the urge to look down at her shoes and to stay with Harry's gaze.

"If… if you don't have anything better to do that night… maybe you and I… I'd like to…"

There were too many things for Harry to keep track of in that one single second. The lump in his throat was too much so he swallowed and got it down to his flip-flopping stomach. Hermione was… was doing something to herself, maybe a glamour or an allure but he wasn't thinking straight because of this shimmering aura that seemed to make the world fall away around her. And of course Harry was trying to understand and catch up to the words tumbling out of his mouth that he wasn't aware of what he was saying until it came out with one rush of air.

"Hermione… do you want to go to the Ball with me?"

That was when time started to run at its normal pace again for Harry. Yes, Hermione still looked stunningly pretty, and yes, he still had a funny feeling in his stomach. But now whatever had possessed Harry and compelled him to ask out Hermione Granger to the Yule Ball had suddenly abandoned him. And it left him with a radiantly smiling Hermione, a dead quiet Gryffindor common room, and the pounding of a heartbeat so thunderous that he was sure that Fred and George had set off one of their strings of firecrackers in his chest.

"I… oh, Harry." Whatever spell that had been cast on Harry seemed to still hold Hermione in its sway, and Harry would never forget the one loudest, heaviest heartbeat that he felt in his chest before Hermione finally said…

"… _Yes_."

Harry couldn't think straight after that. Maybe it was how the funny feeling burst into a swarm of excited butterflies, or how he felt congratulatory claps on his back that seemed to scramble his brains even more. Maybe it was the way that somewhere in the distance there were some students crying out in confusion or surprise. Maybe it was the ear-splitting squeal that came from Parvati and Lavender's mouths when Hermione answered him that knocked his senses out. The rest of the night would be such a blur for Harry save for one very important memory.

Hermione had said _yes_.

 _ **To be continued…**_

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Thank you all for taking the author's note in the previous chapter of reviews equaling enthusiasm to heart. It is up to the readers themselves to make a story successful and I hope to have your support as this story unfolds. I hope you all have enjoyed this installment, and if you haven't already, favorite, follow, and most importantly, review this chapter. Thanks again.

P.S. Some of you may notice the pairing changes. Pairings will be linked when they are romantic in the story.


	3. The Yule Ball and Celebrations

Small excerpts have been taken from the original Goblet of Fire text and inserted in places where there is no other option due to plot constraints. I make no claim on any Harry Potter media or the works of Rowling. As some readers may have already realized, this story is meant to show only the changes to the Goblet of Fire and not a recounting of every single detail. A look at the chapter title will show which parts of the books are being taken on an alternative path for those who wish to review them.

This chapter very much earns the M rating so please consider yourselves warned doubly.

Warnings: Some OOC, edginess (not the usual kind, though, but brought on by the conceit of the theme), and lemons

That being said, I hope you all enjoy the following chapter.

* * *

 **Unusual Fascinations**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Mesmerist

 _Ron Does Not Have a Problem, No One Has a Problem_

"You… fancy… Hermione?"

"It's not simple like that, Ron." Harry said, though he would be loath to explain exactly what was going on between himself and Hermione.

"But… you asked her… and… what?" Ron said, not really talking to Harry anymore but puzzling it out as he sat confused on his bed. Harry wished that he could just deal with this in the morning. It wasn't as if he didn't owe Ron an explanation. Harry was having just as hard a time figuring out what his new relationship with Hermione was even more than Ron did.

"Mate, we've been together, what, four years? You never once mentioned anything about liking Hermione." Ron said, still not looking at Harry and more at some invisible spot in front of Harry's bed.

Inwardly Harry wanted very much to say _puberty_ but decided against it considering Ron's fragile condition.

While it wouldn't be fair to call the scene after Hermione's saying yes to him a madhouse, it was still a noteworthy moment in Gryffindor history. The twins had slapped Harry on the back as he stumbled into the middle of the common room and Hermione's two giggling roommates ushered her away in a fit of barely whispered congratulations.

There were no rounds of applause or cheers from the rest of the students still mulling about, though there were a few gasps of surprise and exclamations, one of which came from a very green looking Ginny Weasley. Even more so for stragglers who came in wondering what brought on the strange atmosphere in the tower. Everyone's attention was completely on Harry as he sat back down on the fluffy sofa cushions and next to a flabbergasted Ron.

The rest of the evening, short as it was, consisted of Ron asking the same question over and over again; When did Harry start fancying Hermione?

"I don't know, Ron." Harry said, tossing himself onto his bed.

"You hear that, Ron? He doesn't know!" Seamus called out irritably, throwing open the curtains of his four-poster then sliding them shut right after. The boys could hear the muffled sound of a silencing charm from behind the fabric.

"Yeah, alright, alright. I get it. But we're talking more about this tomorrow, first thing." Ron sighed, finally looking at Harry. "I still can't believe it. You, fancying Hermione."

Harry sighed as well, turning over and getting comfortable for the night. He had enough to worry about with whatever feelings Hermione had started to stir in him emotionally, as well as the spell he was about to cast on her and all the moral quandaries that posed. Did he really need to deal with Ron's disbelief as well? Even if he did owe Ron answers Harry was fairly certain that he'd have to make up another story again.

"Wossat? Harry fancies Hermione?" Neville said, stepping into the bedroom still red-faced and smelling of his bath.

"Yeah, can you believe it? Harry fancies Hermione!" Ron instantly sat up, and Harry could hear a groan coming from behind Seamus' curtains followed by a pillow thrown straight into Ron's face.

Seamus had always been rubbish at charms.

The next morning was not much better. Harry had woken up before Ron but the first thing that greeted him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes was the sound of his best friend tossing and turning.

"Hnnggsat… Harry… 'n 'mione. Fancy… fancy…" Ron snored and Harry rolled his eyes at the youngest Weasley boy. Throwing off the covers, Harry decided that he would take advantage of his friend's immobile state and buy himself a little more peace and quiet before Ron could start another inquisition.

It was Saturday and from all the excitement of the past week's Yule Ball announcement and the following social frenzy it incurred, everyone in Hogwarts was taking a well-deserved lie-in. Only a few students playing quiet games or chatting by the fire were in the common room, and Harry thought that he had escaped an early morning accosting when a shrill and bubbly voice cried out from behind him.

"Harry Potter, as I live and breathe!"

Harry didn't know why Lavender was up so early that morning. But she was awake and he had the misfortune of being in her path and being the biggest target for Hogwarts gossip since the semester began.

"I knew it! I just knew it. All those 'study sessions' that Hermione said she had with you. All those little looks you give her in the hallways. And don't even get me _started_ on how you two carry on with those 'wand lessons' you have to get your grubby mitts on hers! You, Mister Potter, are going to tell me all about it." Lavender squealed, and with her chirping went Harry's chances of not being interrogated about his relationship with Hermione.

Lavender's body then crushed onto Harry's arm. There was little in between the two of them aside from the fabric of Harry's pajamas and Lavender's nightgown, and it was impossible for Harry not to notice two rather prominent points rubbing against his arm compared to the rest of her pleasantly soft flesh. A small flashback of Lavender with her ass raised high in the air and completely entranced shot through Harry's mind and he immediately had to think of Dobby in Aunt Petunia's underwear to try to save him from an embarrassing situation.

It was a bit strange. While Harry always felt immense guilt after imagining Hermione ensorcelled under his charm, he felt no such pangs seeing Lavender in the same way. Maybe it was cruel, but Harry never thought of her as much of a person as Lavender was a walking, talking giggle machine. Most of the other students considered her being a girl and a sexpot as her defining characteristics ever since she started at Hogwarts. Still, Harry did feel bad about his musing that there wasn't much personality and brains to be snuffed out in her head.

But Harry never noticed Lavender for her mind and the reason why she had been part of his fantasies at all that fateful autumn evening was because of her dynamite, voluptuous body. That same body she was currently smothering him in. _Dobby in fanny pants, Dobby in fanny pants._ He repeated in his head like a protection spell.

"Come now, Harry. Spill. What about our little Miss Granger drew you to her the most?" Lavender smiled, mercifully letting go of his arm to step in front of him.

Harry had wanted to escape his room for exactly this reason. He didn't need to feel like such a creep this early on a Saturday. But as was happening more frequently these days, thoughts of Hermione on came unbidden in his mind at Lavender's questions.

Hermione had gone up to the front of the class, nervous as the rest, and she had looked to Harry for support when she finally stood ready for her enchantment. They had already seen some of the boys make fools out of themselves at Moody's instruction, and all that Harry felt for Hermione at the time was relief that it wasn't his turn anymore and pity for his friend.

"You can do it." He said silently, giving her a nod of support, and Hermione smiled ruefully back at him, trying to return the gesture.

Her head didn't even have a chance to dip down when the fog of the Unforgivable enveloped her. Hermione's last action under her own free will was to throw her head back when the magic flowed through her body. That was the beginning for Harry, feeling something stir within as he followed the pretty arc of her neck curving down to her shoulders and her back. The inkling that this was somehow wrong had started in the back of Harry's mind, but then Hermione's face looked into his and those thoughts stopped entirely.

She was _beautiful_.

It was a truth that Harry couldn't believe he wasn't aware of until then. It was the same Hermione, frizzy hair and awkward smile and all, the girl he saved all those years ago. But she was so different. Her countenance was beatific and she looked past Harry as if she saw the entire universe for what it was. Everything about her was so relaxed, so at peace, Harry could not reconcile that this state was brought on by one of the supposed darkest spells known to the wizarding world.

The moment seemed to last forever, Harry sitting there in awe of this perfect creature. Never had a sight affected him as much as this had, and he felt something deep within his core crack and shift and remake itself. This, he realized, was how Hermione was always meant to be, the true form hiding behind the shy and bookish girl that he thought he knew so well.

And he knew what Hermione was going through inside her thoughts. She wasn't just becalmed on the surface but down to her very center of her being. Harry remembered what it was like to fight the spell, just to feel the alluring promise of respite and obedience even before casting the spell off. What must it have been like for Hermione to surrender completely to that feeling, to obey without qualm or hesitation? Harry wanted to be the one to give her that peace so badly. He needed to be the one she obeyed, the only presence in her existence.

He needed Hermione to be his.

"Everything about her." Harry replied darkly after the pause, Lavender's presence more of an afterthought to the question she brought up. It aligned in Harry's mind then. That was why he wanted Hermione to be his. He wanted that feeling of control, and he wanted her to be happy. It was a twisted thought, and it was selfish, but one that he knew was his.

When had he become so possessive? Why had this obsession taken such a hold over him? It was the most terrible sort of logic, the one that bred creatures like Voldemort and Grindelwald; He had split the world down to those that submit and those that rule. Harry had always been so very close to that darkness, always there to see the wizards it had bent and corrupted. This was the first time that it actually had something that he wanted.

Objectively, Harry knew that he had resisted admirably against that siren call all through his life. He was angry and frustrated at his guardians, but that was a part of his life that he had accepted. He had been given the choice of power in return for his soul, but he had resisted. He was so damn bloody heroic, always for the greater good, always the lives of others for his own.

Was his downfall really because he just wanted a girl to do as he pleased?

But wasn't that how so many stories went, though? All for a girl. And Harry knew it wasn't just for a girl, her body, or her company. Harry wanted everything about her just as he had said to Lavender. He wanted Hermione in the purest, vilest, most poetic sense.

Unfortunately, all that Lavender seemed to hear was the same insipid reasoning in his answer that every idiotic pissant wanted to hear. Harry shuddered a bit when the word pissant actually filtered through his brain. He really was turning into some sort of poor, evil wizard.

"Oh, that is so romaaaaaantic!" Lavender mooned, and that bubbly voice brought Harry back down from the angry dimension of his thoughts, back to Hogwarts, back to the common room. Was that really the conclusion Lavender had come to? The incredibly gross simplification of his agony, his self-hatred for his fascination summed up into one genre of fiction and cinema?

Harry didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to run away from this harpy bimbo. He wanted to silence her squawking with the same curse to wipe away her mind. He wanted to just tell off Lavender in the meanest, most juvenile way possible and make her leave his sight. Harry wanted to-

"That's enough, Lavender."

Harry didn't dare turn around at the sound of that voice.

"Aww, but Hermione, I was just about to ask when Harry knew he fancied you. Your little boy-toy here has been giving some very sweet answers." Lavender laughed again, and Harry had to fight his wand hand from casting a silencing charm of his own at the girl.

"That's no one's business but mine and Harry's." Hermione said evenly, though it was obvious that she was bristling underneath her calm demeanor. Not waiting for an answer she took Harry's arm and dragged him away from Lavender.

"I never took you for the jealous type, Hermione." Lavender called out from behind them, but Hermione just ignored her and led them to the Fat Lady's portrait and out of the tower.

 **The Perfect Present**

"I'm sorry about Lavender. You can't believe what it was like for me with her and Parvati yammering on all of last night." Hermione said, sighing as the portrait swung close behind them and they were finally free of ogling students.

"Yeah, funny. I think I can imagine, actually." Harry laughed, and it was at that sound that Hermione's annoyed expression shifted to a shy blush and she let go of Harry. He already started to miss the warmth of her hand.

"Oh, of course. Ron. I don't envy you for that." Hermione said, giggling a bit as well. It was a kind of laughter Harry hadn't heard in almost two years. Harry felt his cheeks redden as well after finding how much he enjoyed it.

They spent a comfortable awkwardness as they waited for the other to speak. It was Hermione that decided to break the silence.

"Harry…" she said slowly, making Harry meet her eyes.

"I… thank you, first, for asking me to the ball but… why did you?" she wondered aloud, the curiosity in her eyes tempered with something delicate.

Harry thought for a moment before answering.

"For the same reason you said yes, Hermione." Harry said simply.

There was a change in the air. Hermione took a step forward, closing the space that separated them and surprising Harry. The delicacy in her eyes was still there, but the curiosity was gone. In its place was courage.

"I'd like to kiss you, Harry Potter." Hermione whispered, but there was a wanting in her voice that roared over her soft words.

"I'm not stopping you." Harry said.

And so they did.

Hermione's lips were soft but chapped from the December morning air yet they melted together perfectly as the kiss went on. The motion, the friction between what they shared was thrilling to Harry. Hermione's breath filled his lungs, and her scent was something that he couldn't name but was so intimately hers.

It was Harry's turn to step towards Hermione, destroying any distance left between them and circling his arms around her waist and her shoulders. He held her body next to his and Hermione took his advance to deepen the kiss, her lips parting and her eager tongue exploring against Harry's.

Even in the cold winter air and their thin clothes the two Gryffindors felt a heat coming from inside of them and from the other. Harry was lost in everything that Hermione was, her lips, her skin. The familiar sense of possession reared its insatiable head and all that Harry could think about was his wanting and what the girl captured in his embrace yielded.

Their kiss grew in passion and Hermione's hands had begun to roam across Harry's back. What started as innocent meetings between their tongues had become a dance and their breath mingled in a fog around their mouths.

"Harry… oh… Harry!" Hermione moaned, a desperate plea that only spurred him onward, attacking her lips again in fury for daring to part from his even to speak his name.

"Harry!"

For the slightest of moments, Harry wondered how it was possible for Hermione to say his name again when he knew for a fact that their lips were practically inseparable. But then he realized that Hermione's voice was nowhere as deep and cracking and unpleasant, though he did know exactly whose voice did.

"Ron!" "Ron!"

Harry and Hermione shouted in surprise. The shock was so fresh that they still held on to each other even as they were caught red handed and when they realized their compromising position it took another moment still to disentangle themselves from each other's clothes and tresses.

"Why you two… you can't… just… snoggin' in front of the door… what if…" Ron stammered, his face running through a gamut of funny expressions.

Harry's mouth flapped open and closed uselessly as he tried to think of another lie to tell while Hermione went white as a sheet and equally as silent.

"And… mate. Your wand's just…" Ron said, exasperated as he mumbled something and suddenly found one of the tapestries near the ceiling incredibly interesting. "… Mcgonagall would have a fit if she saw where you kept it is all."

Harry was already quite confused and wanted to demand an explanation from Ron if it weren't for the fact that he was incredibly humiliated. Then he realized what Ron had been looking at beforehand and the words fit themselves properly in his understanding.

A long stiffness that wasn't present at the start of his and Hermione's meeting stood prominently against the cloth of his pajamas. On top of it all was the fact that it was pointing directly at Hermione. When Harry noticed where it was facing his length gave a little jump as if wanting nothing more than to be closer to the girl once again.

Hermione's wits were faster than Harry's at that second and she was already staring in wonder at what she had elicited below his waist. The blood that had drained from her face at getting caught now rushed back with a vengeance, the color giving Weasley's hair fair competition in her scarlet hue.

"I… I…" Hermione faltered, looking up at Harry before finally stepping back and rushing past Ron and through the portrait door. Harry felt his spirit die at her exit, but then Hermione stopped at the entrance and looked back for just a moment, favoring Harry with a small, apologetic smile.

Then Hermione's eyes flickered down on what no one could mistake for anything else and she bit the side of her bottom lip, not bothering to disguise what she felt before coming to her senses and running as fast as she could into the commons. Harry forgot about everything else at that smile and he would have given up his Firebolt for the chance to follow her to wherever she was headed and-

"Mate! C'mon, have some decency, will you?" Ron snapped, thankfully reminding Harry he was supposed to be feeling mortified. He did just that, taking on the weird hunch and pressed legs of a young man who wanted to hide what Harry was experiencing.

"Yeah, you're not fooling anyone, Harry. Why don't you sit down for a minute?" Ron said, jerking his head at a corner away from the Fat Lady's portrait. Realizing that his own hormones were rebelling against his wishes, Harry could only agree and hobbled off to the side of the corridor to squat down.

Ron sighed and walked over a few paces away from Harry. He crumpled down to take a seat himself, leaning against the wall.

"So… you fancy Hermion, eh?" Ron said, sounding more tired than Harry had ever heard from his best friend.

"Yeah. I suppose I do fancy Hermione." Harry said, thankful for the cold of the castle that felt good against his still-warm body.

They sat in a different silence then, Harry looking down on the stone floor while Ron kept his eyes on the tapestry that gave him respite from earlier.

"When did it start?" Ron asked. Harry could only give a small laugh at that.

"This year. All of a sudden she was just… different." Harry said carefully, not wanting to lie to Ron but knowing he still had much to keep from him. The answer seemed to satisfy him enough and Ron nodded at the ceiling.

"I reckon things can be simple like that."

Taking a deep breath, Ron suddenly stood up and let out a frustrated groan, scratching his head furiously with both hands and startling Harry.

"Argh… blimey, Harry. You really don't see things half measure, mate!" said Ron, letting out another heavy sigh and looking down at his friend. Harry said nothing, feeling as if it wasn't the time to say anything at all.

"It's… hard… always having to be around you, Harry. Things're always changing and I never know what's coming next." Ron said. "I guess it makes sense, the two of you. As much sense as anyone else together in this bloody castle."

Harry opened his mouth to say something then, feeling that it was time, but Ron's next words stopped him cold.

"Don't hurt her, Harry."

There was something in the way that Ron said it, and something even deeper in what was left unsaid between the two of them, that Harry suddenly felt very grateful but also very wary. That seemed to be enough and Ron went back to his usual self, scoffing a bit and straightening up.

"Right then. Good to hear, mate. Wouldn't want to have to deal with her blubbering over you if you foul it up and break it off, say?" Ron said, letting out shaky laugh.

"Never, Ron. I don't even think that I can." Harry said, giving a sad smile back at Ron.

"Yeah, good thing, that." Ron sniffed, his face cracking into the first real smile in days. "Enough of this, then. Let's head down to the Great Hall already. I'm starving." Ron added, yawning and rubbing his belly as if to prove the point.

"Err… you go ahead, Ron. I'll… catch up." Harry said, hoping that Ron would catch his meaning. To Ron's credit, it only took him a minute of looking baffled before he grimaced in understanding.

"Oh yeah. You, um… you take care of that, mate. I'll see you at breakfast." Ron said, shuffling away at a funny pace.

If Harry could take away anything from this incredible, embarrassing, and harrowing morning, at least he could say that he was impressed by his own stamina.

 _Imperio_

"Is it hot in here? I feel like someone should take a look at that fire. Why is it so hot in here?"

Harry wondered how anyone could bear the temperature of the common room. Even the snowball fight from earlier had done nothing to cool him down and Harry couldn't believe it could be this warm in the middle of winter. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that a giggling horde of Gryffindor girls had descended upon Hermione that morning and absconded with Harry's date, promising to make sure she would be ready for him in time for the Ball.

"I'd be sweating through my dress robes too after wearing down a hole in the rug with all your pacing." Ron said, picking at the strange pink yarn that Dobby had used to darn his sleeves. Harry just chalked up Ron's grumpiness with the fact that Dobby had woken them all up in a surprise Christmas morning gift exchange. It was better than thinking of the alternative reason with Ron going stag to the party. At least Dobby had stayed to fix Ron's self-made improvements to his dress robes in exchange for the leftover fabric.

"I blame you for this, Harry. This never would have happened if you'd asked absolutely any other girl in the tower." grumbled Dean, who had already made it very clear how pleased he was to be escorting Parvati and was not at all happy with being made to wait.

Harry wasn't even really paying attention to his housemate. While other boys had been complaining about their dates taking the afternoon to prepare for the dance, Hermione had been stolen away by her roommates the very first thing after breakfast that day. Harry had no earthly idea what girls did to themselves as far as makeup and dresses were concerned, but even he knew that almost half of the day meant something monumental in preparation.

He didn't know how it had spread, but the days before the dance had been a nightmare due to the news of his early morning snog with Hermione spreading through the castle like wildfire. As much as he would have liked to have spent some time with Hermione before the Ball, every moment they were together meant howling catcalls and congratulations from the boys and annoyingly happy looks of encouragement at Hermione from the girls.

After an irate Ron blew up at a group of third years who had taken to joining in on the older students in the newly styled 'Gryffindor Royal Couple,' Harry and Hermione both agreed that it was for the best to keep away from each other until the night of the celebration. That didn't stop either of them from sending shy looks and smiles at each other when they could in the common room or the halls, nor did that stop anyone from mercilessly teasing Harry when they were caught.

Even Mcgonagall, in a passing comment from the faculty table, had broken from her usual staid demeanor. She mentioned to Flitwick that she couldn't remember so much gossip for one couple since Harry's own parents all those years ago. Severus Snape seemed to have lost his appetite at that remark and for the rest of the week had shot Harry glares that he was fairly sure would have killed the faint of heart.

It all led to the electrified atmosphere of the common room where everyone tried their best to look like they weren't eagerly awaiting their Triwizard couple's debut. Harry sorely wanted to tell them all off. Didn't they have their own dates to worry about?

There was even a collective gasp when the shadow of someone descending from the girls' dormitory ran down the steps. It was followed by a collective sense of disappointment when Parvati skipped down the stairs, barring Dean who was quite happy to see her in her pretty dress. Parvati, thankfully, didn't seem to notice the crowd and grinned at Harry as she took her place at Dean's side.

"Good. You look quite nice, Harry. It would have been a shame if you weren't dressed properly for the occasion." She said cryptically, and Harry's nervousness trebled at her knowing glance.

Harry didn't have much time to simmer in his apprehension because a familiar, giggling voice cleared her throat behind him.

Lavender was smiling at him from the top of the girls' stairs, quite stunning in her own dangerously cut gown, but for once Harry was not appreciating her curves and was more frightened by the mirrored look she had with Parvati.

"Mmm, you'll do, Harry. It's good to see all our hard work won't go to waste." Lavender smirked as she appraised him, and Harry felt like he had quite enough of girls doing impressions of Dumbledore as if they knew everything that he didn't.

"Well then, I won't keep you, Mister Potter. Hermione Granger is ready for you now." Lavender said casually, but obviously loud enough for the benefit of everyone waiting in the common room. A hush settled over the mob as the sound of delicate heels clipped down the tower's steps.

The gasps that followed were a fair summary of the fruit of Lavender and Parvati's labor.

"Cor…" Ron said, pulling too hard one of the strings he had been playing with when Hermione finally revealed herself past the archway. Harry could only agree.

To say that Hermione was brilliant would have been an understatement.

They had been called Royalty as a joke, but Hermione looked every bit the Gryffindor princess at her entrance. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and styled in ringlets and swirls that were no doubt magical in her elegant chignon. Hermione's face was resplendent from her deep ruby lips to her illuminated foundation, giving her a glowing, dewy look that shined against the winter season. It was the perfect blend of magical and muggle methods of beauty. And as she descended the staircase, it was as if Hermione was practically floating in her golden robes and burgundy sashes that shimmered beautifully in the candlelight.

She stepped down into the commons, her very presence contrasting against everyone in the room. More than one awed boy received an angry slap or a pulled ear from their own dates. And the girls that weren't brimming with joy at seeing Hermione coming into her loveliness looked almost Slytherin in envy. Because as Hermione made her way through the parting crowds, every girl was made to look like what they actually were; teenagers trying to look grown up for a school dance.

No, that was not what Hermione was.

Hermione was a lady, and she owned the night. And she was owned by Harry.

Everything seemed to fall further and farther away as his vision lost focus at the edges. Hermione captured all the light in the room only to return it in her brilliance leaving Harry speechless. He no longer thought of Hermione as having any sort of magical charms or veela glamor. Whatever she was, whatever Hermione became for him was far, far beyond anything that he could ever comprehend.

For all the lucky charm and fortunate smooth lines Harry had stumbled on during the past few weeks, Hermione seemed to banish them all the closer she made her way to him. By the time she finally stood in front of him, smiling her perfect smile and batting her perfect eyelashes, tilting her perfect head the perfect angle, Harry only had one not so perfect response left in his arsenal.

"Uh…"

It was all that Harry could muster and he hoped that he wasn't drooling.

Even Hermione's look of indecision and worry was beautiful. Her brow creased at Harry's less than stellar answer.

"Do… you not like it? I knew it was too much. I never should have let Parvati and Lavender talk me into this. I had a simple, periwinkle dress and… and…" Hermione said, and her eyes began to water. The sight of distress finally shocked Harry out of his stupor and he touched Hermione's hand, eventually bringing it into his.

"Sorry, I'm sorry Hermione you look…" Harry said, his senses returning but not necessarily his wits. "… you look perfect." He finished lamely, hoping it was enough.

And by the return of that happy smile to Hermione's lips, it seemed as if it was.

 _Imperio_

"I'm sorry, I can't believe Krum stared at me the whole night." Hermione said, shivering at the memory, and Harry fought the urge to tell her so was every other boy that wasn't in the radius of Fleur's allure. Actually, even then some of those young men still glanced at Hermione to what Harry observed was the frustration of the French veela.

"No, I should be the one apologizing. You had to take the lead at the formal dance." Harry sighed, digging his hands into his pockets as they slowly walked through the gardens. That was actually the reason why he had led Hermione from the dance floor and into the fairy-lit path. For once, Harry had given in to his possessive side. When he had overheard Malfoy speaking to one of his cronies about how 'that Granger girl looked like the kind of muggleborn you kept as a dirty little secret' he knew he had to leave before he made a scene and embarrassed himself or, more importantly, Hermione.

Pretending they wanted more drinks, Harry and Hermione had slipped out into the entrance hall. The front doors stood open, and the fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden winked and twinkled as they went down the front steps, where they found themselves surrounded by bushes; winding, ornamental paths; and large stone statues. Harry could hear splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches. He and Hermione had set off along one of the winding paths through the rosebushes, but they had gone only a short way when they heard an unpleasantly familiar voice.

". . . don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff 's voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard.

"It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it —"

"Then flee," said Snape's voice curtly. "Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."

Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner. Snape had his wand out and was blasting rosebushes apart, his expression most ill-natured. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" as a boy went rushing after her. "And five points from Gryffindor for what no doubt would be conduct unbecoming of a champion and his _escort_." he added, catching sight of Harry and Hermione on the path ahead. Harry didn't quite like the emphasis that Snape had put into the word he used to describe Hermione but bit his tongue. He was not letting Snape ruin what had so far been a magical evening.

Karkaroff, Harry saw, looked slightly discomposed to see them standing there. His hand went nervously to his goatee, and he began winding it around his finger.

"We were just walking," Harry told Snape shortly. "Not against the law, is it?"

"Keep walking, then! You're lucky that I'm not making this incident fifty points instead!" Snape snarled, and he brushed past them, his long black cloak billowing out behind him. Karkaroff hurried away after Snape. Harry and Hermione continued down the path.

"Since when have he and Snape been on first-name terms?" said Harry slowly.

"I'd be more worried about what Karkaroff was alluding to." Hermione said with some concern, though not enough to dissuade her from looping her fingers in Harry's and leading him away from the tense place. All of Harry's anxiety dissolved and he stepped closer to his date, leaning in to her as they walked down the path.

They had reached a large stone reindeer now; over which they could see the sparkling jets of a tall fountain. The shadowy outlines of two enormous people were visible on a stone bench, watching the water in the moonlight. And then Harry heard Hagrid speak.

"Momen' I saw yeh, I knew," he was saying, in an oddly husky voice.

Harry and Hermione froze. This didn't sound like the sort of scene they ought to walk in on, somehow... Harry looked around, back up the path, and saw Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies standing half-concealed in a rosebush nearby. He squeezed Hermione's hand and jerked his head toward them, meaning that they could easily sneak off that way without being noticed. Hermione nodded, trying not to stare at the couple as they pawed each other, though still stealing a few glances and blushing underneath the fairy light.

"What did you know, 'Agrid?" they heard Madame Maxime say, a purr in her low voice as they left the reindeer. Harry definitely didn't want to listen to this; he knew more than just fairy lights and midnight insects were in the air tonight, and he led Hermione back towards the castle to give their large friend more privacy.

Once inside the Great Hall, Harry looked around to see that the party was still going in full swing. He stifled a laugh as he saw Ronald dancing with abandon, a muggle lampshade somehow around his head and gyrating about as if he was a cowboy with a lasso.

"Who knew Weasely would act like that with a bit of Ireland in him, eh Harry?" Seamus laughed when they passed him by, winking while he showed the inner folds of his robe gleaming with the steel of a Firewhiskey flask. Hermione looked scandalized but somehow pleased, smiling behind her raised hand, and Harry was glad for his friend.

Harry put his arm around Hermione's waist and motioned to the dance floor, hinting that maybe she wanted to repeat a bit of the magic they had together when they led the Champion's dance. Harry had hoped to regain some of his pride as Hermione had taken the lead then, but he was a bit surprised when Hermione's grin settled into a gentle smile and she shook her head no. Harry was only allowed a second of confusion before Hermione took the arm he had laid on her waist and led him out of the Great Hall.

 _Imperio_

Harry followed Hermione through the corridors of Hogwarts, and she looked back and smiled nervously every so often. They passed other couples in the hallways in various states of passion, but he knew that this was the long walk.

 _That_ long walk.

He had only ever thought these types of things happened to older students, but then Harry realized that he actually was one of those older students now. He hoped that Hermione wouldn't notice how clammy his hands were starting to get. The further up the castle they went, the more risqué the displays of the students around them became. As Hermione kept Harry walking, the couples they passed by were now starting to recede into the shadows and dark corners for their trysts. Harry could feel his heart racing as he knew tradition dictated the longer she led him, the more promising the night had become.

When she led him past even the loneliest of broom closets and unused classrooms, Harry couldn't believe the daring of the girl and hoped that he would be able to live up to her expectations. That was until she took a turn decidedly away from the Gryffindor tower and his empty dorm room. Now Harry was confused. It was only when they passed the sixth flight of stairs that realization dawned on him and a completely new hunger bloomed in his chest.

"Tonight?" he asked, searchingly as they reached the seventh and last staircase.

"Yes. Tonight." Hermione said simply, only stopping long enough to give Harry a penurious look before they finally reached the one room they had both been waiting for months to enter together.

After pacing the required amount of times in front of the doorway, the door opened to Harry and Hermione with curling tongues of smoke and incense that seemed to beckon them deeper. Harry, being a gentleman, let Hermione in first.

The room hadn't changed much since he last summoned it, but Harry did notice that there was a more refined elegance to it now. Instead of a cozy cabin, it had reformed into a sort of a retreat den, with a larger fireplace and more glass and stone than the wood from before. There were still the multitudes of candles, but the bookshelves were integrated to the room now. He waited for Hermione to say something about the bed, but she didn't bring it up and went straight to the middle of the circular room, standing next to the fireplace.

"It's perfect." She smiled, and Harry couldn't agree more.

Hermione's dress and makeup lent very well to the orange and gold light of the many flames that lit the Room of Requirement. She glowed with something that Harry couldn't place, yet she most certainly seemed at home at the center of it all. Hermione was the one thing that the room couldn't summon for Harry yet needed desperately to complete it. In Hermione's own words, it was perfect.

There was a bit of silence with only the crackling of the fireplace as Harry shrugged of the heavy outer layers of his dress robes and placed it on one of the many empty chaises. Hermione, for her part, had started to go around the room to pick up an item here and there, and Harry finally realized that the shelves held the objects and reading materials needed for the ritual that they were about to perform.

 _It's really happening._ Harry thought as he watched Hermione go about her work, opening drawers and looking into boxes and tomes for whatever she needed in the upcoming hours. It gave Harry time with his thoughts, and he found himself down that same line as he unbuttoned his cuffs and sat down to wait.

He had pushed aside the guilt for so long, postponing the remorse and entertaining the fantasy up until the very last second when they crossed the threshold of the room. Now he was faced with glaring reality. With Hermione tracing out runes from her wand, he wondered if he could go through with it at all. He saw her draw out that wicked tome from her clutch, growing back from what no doubt was a reduction spell. _'Thee Knowleydge Moste Blitheful'_ was there amongst them once again and though the book was silent, the weight of what it represented rested squarely on Harry's shoulders.

Yes, on one slim technicality, what they were doing was not Dark magic. Yes, Hermione was willingly submitting to him and it was even her idea in the first place. Yes, he still wanted to help Hermione with her research. But that was all pretense, wasn't it?

What exactly was he doing here? What exactly was he about to do to his, well, he didn't even know what to call Hermione anymore. Much, much more than a friend. They've kissed, they had inspired lust in each other. And now Hermione knew, fully aware of their burgeoning relationship, that she was about to place herself under his complete control. What was running through her head to allow this?

Harry watched as Hermione carefully drew the proper runes on the floor and calculated the Arithmancy in her head. Hermione. Brilliant, wonderful Hermione. Why was she so eager to have her mind stolen away from her?

"It's time."

The breathless voice caught Harry unawares, and Hermione stared up to his seat from her kneeling position on the floor. What was Harry seeing in Hermione's eyes? What exactly was the dark shadow that was passing underneath her soft brown irises. As if in a trance himself, they drew Harry in and even as the turmoil of his emotions raged within him, Hermione was leading him deeper and deeper into that same dangerous path. He didn't know how or when she had taken it, but Hermione placed his wand in his hand, gently guiding him to what he knew was the proper starting form of the spell and with it any doubts of what was about to happen that night.

"Hermione…" Harry said, and he was surprised to hear the worry in his voice, but the depths of Hermione's gaze kept pulling at him in ways he couldn't resist.

Clarity suddenly broke through and Hermione's wonton features returned to the same, gentle smile that he had known all through these years.

This was it, Harry thought in his shame. She had finally come to her senses. She was pitying him, already forgiving him for his sins. There was a tightness in his chest. He didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve Hermione's mercy. Harry was a disgusting, dreadful, hedonistic beast that-

"Cast the spell, Harry. I need you."

Reality was tilting again. It was the last thing that Harry expected her to say. Not with that innocent face, not with that soft voice. She was supposed to stop him. She was supposed to be the angel that saved him. She had no right to look the very part of his salvation only to push him back into the hunger. She had to be punished, disciplined. The same need to show her battered at Harry again and again.

Hermione needed to know her place.

" _Optempero."_

It was barely above a whisper but the power in the spell rippled through the room, making the candles and even the fireplace sputter and flicker as one. How was this spell not Dark magic?

As the charm coursed from him then to Hermione and back again, Harry felt dirty. Absolutely filthy and vile; depraved. And as the spark of Hermione's will flowed from her bright eyes to bleed back into the shadows, Harry reveled in it. Because Hermione was smiling. Bright, beautiful, complete. Hermione knew joy again, and Harry had given it to her.

The spell was finished, and the fires roared back to life. Harry felt himself sliding off of the soft cushions from the settee and onto the floor. There was no distance between them now as Harry stared into Hermione's glazed and blinking eyes.

Then as if she had been holding her breath, Hermione took a deep swallow of air. Her eyes were alive again, sharp and focused but still so utterly dark. Her smile grew from a simple line until she was beaming brilliantly at Harry.

"Master!" Hermione sighed, stalking into his arms.

Harry was taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from Hermione, the girl pushing him all the way until he leaned on the sofa. Hermione was showering him with kisses now, her body writhing against him as pure, unadulterated delight seemed to pour out from her.

"Her-Hermione?!" Harry gasped in between passionate kisses, startled to no end and forgetting his self-hatred for a moment by the assault of Hermione's adoration.

"Yes, Harry, Master! Oh, Harry. Your words. They're… they're beautiful! Please, please, Master. Command me, please! I need you, Harry, I need so badly to obey you." Hermione cried, in both senses of the word as tears of happiness streamed down her face.

"Hermione, please will you… Mmpphh… calm down!" Harry said, finally getting a hold of Hermione's shoulders and pulling the girl to arm's length.

"Yes, of course, Harry. I must calm down." Hermione said simply, and her exultant hysterics settled instantly. She sat back on her heels her smile returned to a calm and gentle one which contrasted greatly with the mascara drawn by her drying tears.

"Hermione, t-tell me what just happened!" Harry said, his grip loosening as his heartrate returned to a normal pace. Not that he had a reason to. The inhuman speed at which Hermione switched from desperate debauchee to sitting pretty and bemused was positively frightening!

Hermione breathed deeply again, her eyes sliding close as if she were relishing something exquisite, then opened them again to blind Harry with her joy.

"It worked, Master. I seduced you into turning me into your slave!" Hermione replied happily, rocking back on the balls of her feet.

Harry boggled at the girl, who apart from her running makeup was still the picture of innocent beauty and Gryffindor excellence.

"You… planned this?" Harry mumbled, leaning back fully on the couch now and running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"Yes, Harry, I mean, Master. Oh…" Hermione closed her eyes again and shivered in clear arousal, a feeling that Harry was only fighting back due to the shock of her revelations. "… Mmm… that was amazing… ah, yes! From the moment I realized that I had fallen for you, Harry. And with a little help from Blithe." Hermione giggled. Not a manic, insane giggle, like Harry would have expected from someone who would plot the death of their own freedom. Hermione was chuckling as if he had just told her a lukewarm joke like the sane, rational person that she no longer was.

"Yes. Isn't she perfect now, Master?" a sultry voice purred from behind Harry, and he nearly jumped if it weren't for the fact that Hermione's legs still rested on top of him.

Blithe had floated down from the shelf and into Harry's vision, smiling serenely at Hermione, who returned expression with equal tranquility.

A flabbergasted Harry then watched in disbelief as Hermione tilted her head and leaned into Blithe for a kiss, their tongues swirling openly for Harry to see. There was only so much that surprise could do to hold back the feeling in Harry's pants and now the young man was an angry combination of astonishment and arousal.

Then another amazing display of magic unfolded before Harry's very eyes. As they kissed, Blithe's features began to change. The aristocratic features of her cover morphed to an exact replica of Hermione's heart shaped face, and the red leather of the book's hair contoured and changed color to match the hue and texture of Hermione's wavy brunette. Eventually the two parted with one shining strand of saliva connecting their lips, twins in the most perfect sense. When the liquid thread broke, Blithe's features returned to her original façade.

"Sisters." They smiled at each other, and Blithe hovered gently to rest on an empty seat nearby.

Harry sat there, dumbfounded for almost a full minute as his eyes flicked from Hermione to Blithe and cycling again. When all they would do was to smile expectantly at him, that's when Harry's frayed nerves snapped.

"Hermione. Tell me everything that just happened and why. Every detail." He said darkly, no longer having the patience for their game.

Hermione shuddered again, almost as if she would faint, but Harry already had an idea of why that was and ignored it for now. He was more interested in what she had to say no matter how flushed her cheeks became or how dark the damp spot on the crotch of her dress colored. When he noticed the latter half of what was happening, it took a supreme amount of willpower not to stare, but that was one quality that Harry was no longer lacking.

After Hermione finished getting herself off to his authoritative command, her eyes were clear and shone with purpose. She then proceeded to recount all the pertinent details, as per the order of her Master.

"It started after our walk with Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts. I didn't know it at the time, but the way you spoke to me opened my eyes to you as a romantic partner. I became aware of you, perhaps even a little obsessed, you know how I can be sometimes. I was noticing you more and more as the days went by. Oh Harry, it was only a matter of time. You were charming in your own way, you were attentive, you spent time with me, and you knew me for who I was. There was no outcome that didn't end with me falling for you." Hermione calmly explained, bowling Harry over with her frankness. But Hermione had only just begun.

"After I really started paying attention, that's when I picked up on your fascination with the Imperius curse. I was blinded by my own interests before, but when I finally gave you the same attention that you had given me, that was what opened my eyes." Hermione said, gently lacing her fingers in Harry's as she continued her story.

"I was puzzling after it for so long. Why were you so focused on the subject? Why were you spending so much energy on the charm? I was wracking my brains about it, smartest witch of our age yet I couldn't figure it out until I finally blurted something out loud in front of Blithe. Then she explained it to me." Hermione said, sharing another sisterly glance at Blithe, which the tome returned.

"This… this was the way you expressed your attraction, Harry. It took a very, very long time for Blithe to enlighten me, how this was normal, how this wasn't about anything evil or strange. It was a part of who you are, a part of you that makes you… Harry." Hermione said with such understanding that Harry actually winced a little at how magnanimous she was being with her realizations.

"And you wanted me." Hermione sighed, squeezing Harry's hand tightly. "So I did my research. I looked into what you wanted from me, what you wanted me to do, what you wanted me to become. And, oh, Harry, it was so beautiful." Hermione said, a few drops beginning to pool at the corners of her eyes again.

"You wanted this archetypical love for me, from me. You wanted a Midsummer Night's Dream. You wanted an enchanted and ensorcelled maiden. You wished for the most intimate thing that I could give you, you didn't want my body or any other sordid thing. You wanted…" Hermione said, placing Harry's hand over her heart. "… me. Just me, all of me."

The horror and awe of it all slowly crept into Harry's consciousness. Hermione understood this completely. Knew what he wanted, completely. From Hermione's own brilliant mind to Blithe's wealth of information, she had given herself to him of her own free will, completely.

She had given him her free will.

"I knew it was twisted. I knew something in me had broken and changed into… into whatever we are. I knew that this, what we have, what we've become, goes so far and beyond the lengths of what even the most obsessed wizards and witches do but…" Hermione paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath as she closed her eyes for strength.

"… I didn't care…" she said in a soft voice.

"That's how I knew that I could do this, Harry. I figured out what you wanted, I researched how and why, and as I learned I found, discovered, that I was just like you." Hermione whispered, her palms dropping down and laying Harry's hand on her lap.

"There were so many times that I thought that I would stop. So many times that I was just so afraid. How could I give myself to you? We… we're so young. And what did I, what do you, either of us, know about feeling this way?" Hermione said, pouring herself out to Harry, and he gazed in wonder as she was voicing so many of his own thoughts and insecurities.

"But… you didn't just want me this way, Harry. You… you started caring for me past what I knew you wanted. When you asked me to the Ball, you gave me so much courage." She smiled at Harry again, the roller coaster of her lips taking him back up to her highs.

"Blithe taught me the spell. She showed me the Arithmancy, the spellcraft, all of it. I made you believe it would be so simple, but I had to… it was the only way to make sure… make sure that I was right, that you were the same as me, that I wasn't just seeing what I wanted." Hermione took another breath, some of the candles in the room already dying out as they had stayed for so long now.

"You had to have the will, the desire. You had to have wanted me, all of me, down to the deepest depths of your magic, Harry. The spell wouldn't have worked otherwise. Any thoughts of doubt, any single distraction, and the circuit wouldn't be complete. This was the Imperius Charm, Harry…" Hermione looked deeply into his eyes then, as if willing the enormity of what she was saying into Harry's psyche.

"It wasn't like the charm that had been cast on the elves, it was _that same charm_. There was only ever one version of the Imperius in that form, Harry." Hermione said, and understanding dawned in Harry's mind.

"You wanted me with the same need as a thousand wizards casting a thousand spells, you had enough strength in you to harness a spell that was made for an entire race. How could I ever have resisted you..." Hermione said, pleading, gravitating again towards Harry.

"How could I do anything but submit to you, _Master_?"

The kiss was hot and Harry didn't even realize he had crushed her lips with his until they were tumbling down onto the floor.

"You're mine, Hermione… _mine_."

Harry didn't even recognize the low, animal voice that he knew was coming from his lips. But he agreed wholeheartedly. Hermione was his woman now. She forever would be.

There was a mad scramble as Harry fumbled with his belt, a miracle that he undone the buckle rather than torn it from its loops. His shaft was already furious with desire, ramrod straight and as unyielding as his will. The same couldn't be said for Hermione, a perfect reflection for his passions as she submitted to her Master.

The girl was mewling and crying out on the floor, delirious and feverish as Harry ravished her, his kisses traveling from her mouth to her neck to her collar and back up again. She could feel Harry attacking her dress, and with one last, supreme effort of awareness, she grabbed Harry's wand from their side and vanished her clothes; she surrendered after that, utterly and totally, to Harry's whims and her own lust.

Harry noticed Hermione's weak attempts to snake her fingers underneath his dress shirt, and he didn't think twice at ruining his buttons and the dress robe set; he had only bought the damn thing for the Yule Ball and it had served its purpose. As he straightened to toss the robes into the fire, he looked down at Hermione and relished what he owned.

This lovely creature was his, all his. From her creamy skin to her hair fanned out like a halo on the Room's floor, every inch of Hermione belonged to Harry. And as he followed the curve of her body from the swell of her breasts to the tautness of her stomach, the light fur of her sex, and at last to her dewy slit, Harry knew it was time to claim her flesh as well as her mind.

"Be kind, Master. Command her to enjoy her surrender." Blithe gently reminded Harry, the only words that seemed to penetrate the lust that had settled like a fog onto him. He nodded as he took Hermione's knees in his hands, gingerly parting her legs and lining himself up properly.

"Hermione. This will be the best feeling you've ever had in your life." Harry said, curving down to embrace Hermione and take her in his arms. When the girl nodded with her dazed smile and whispers of _master_ , Harry plunged himself deep inside of Hermione, welcoming the rush of sensations that lit his bones.

The candles that had died around them burst to life and the fire roared in magical approval as Harry claimed Hermione's maidenhead. The runes that Hermione had etched into the stone hours ago flared with purple light and Blithe looked on serenely as her master pleasured her sister-slave. All of this was lost on Harry and Hermione as they rutted and made love at the same time, experiencing the highest of pleasures and the basest of desires in their entwined bodies.

The feeling of being inside of Hermione was exquisite. The older boys had waxed poetic about it before, but Harry felt that the physical aspect of it was something that could not be defined. Hermione was tight, yet giving. She was smooth in all the right places and wonderfully textured in others. The sensation of his skin and his flesh, his length, slipping and filling her channel while she grasped him and captured him, only to let him slide out again for another go, was amazing.

Hermione's body held other delights that overloaded Harry's senses as well. The rise of her breasts felt perfect against his chest, and there was something delicious about the way her nipples traced lines all over him as they pressed together. His roving hands enjoyed the silkiness of Hermione's hair to the warmth of her arms and her waist, and when he found her bum he couldn't help but knead as if his hand had been cast with a sticking charm. All of this only enhanced the experience of being one with Hermione.

They were connected now, both in magic and in body. He was giving her pleasure with his own self and not just his words, and that filled a primal need for Harry that had been just as insistent as his Imperius obsession. Having this girl, this young woman, wrap herself around him, welcome him inside of herself, and all because they were mirror images, two sides of the same, sordid, brilliant coin, was enough to make Harry lose control. His hips were moving on their own now, and Harry marveled at what Hermione was eliciting from him. He wanted more of her, to be closer, from their hungry, kissing lips to their intimate union, he knew he owned the well of Hermione's passion but he couldn't stop himself from drawing deeper and drinking every last drop of her essence.

Harry built his rhythm now and each gasp of Hermione's breath pushed up from her lips spurred him to his next thrust. Hermione moaned and sighed, her fingers raking deep lines onto Harry's chest and back as her legs wrapped around her lover and master's waist so that he could find better purchase into her fold. They grinded against each other for an eternity, lips wrapping and kissing and tongues roving and tasting. The crescendo was coming, and Harry felt Hermione's own need burn him as he picked up his pace.

"H… Hermione… w… with me… _OBEY_!"

The command rolled through Hermione as they shared their climax. Hermione arched her back, paralyzed with sensual bliss as she came with her master and triumphed in both passion and obedience, a pleasure that she knew would never have an equal ever again. Harry spent into his slave, his most treasured possession, crying out Hermione's name without a voice as the greatest sensation in his young life engulfed him.

As they panted, tired and satisfied, the drops of mingled blood and quintessence dripped down Hermione's thighs and onto the runes on the floor. With one last burst of light, the ancient markings blazed in union with the candles and the fireplace, so intense that there was no way that Harry would have missed it. Before the young man could say anything, the lights seemed to pool and collect into Hermione's body, and her glowing form gave one last shudder as Hermione gasped and breathed deeply as though she had been underwater for goodness knows how long.

"Hermione?" Harry said, the final act of their lovemaking finally clearing his head and the enormity of everything that just happened came rushing back to him. Thankfully Harry didn't have time to dwell on it as Hermione's eyes shot open and she had the biggest, happiest, most _normal_ looking smile she had all night.

"Harry! You've done it! I've done it! We've done it!" she cried out, sitting up so abruptly that Harry fell unceremoniously on his rear enough to give a slight bounce on the hard floor to the immediate apologies of Hermione.

"Well, yeah, of course Hermione. I mean, it was my first time and apparently yours so…" Harry said, feeling very much like a heel as he tried to express the gratitude he had for Hermione's gift of herself and her first experience.

"Oh, god, yes Harry, that was… thank you." Hermione blushed for a moment, giving Harry an awkward pat on his wrist. "… honestly, it was the single, best feeling I've ever had in my life, Master!" she sighed, making the blood rush to Harry's own face at the reminder of his command. But the moment was short lived as Hermione continued straight on.

"But that's exactly it, Harry! You! You're still… incredible, I can still feel it…. You're still my Master and I can assure you that I am one hundred percent still your slave! But I'm still me!" she grinned excitedly.

"I… I'm sorry?" Harry said, even though he did still feel that burning connection between them. He couldn't explain how or why, but he knew more than anything else in the world that Hermione was his. It was just everything else about Harry that confused him.

"If I may be of some assistance, Master, my sister-slave would have been such a waste as just another mindless pleasure girl. But it would have been an equal travesty to have her touch pure thralldom only to go back to the dull life of being a free woman, so I instructed her in the best of both worlds." Blithe said, floating placidly beside them making an eerie sight as the only light left in the room were the embers of the fireplace. Thanks to Hermione's patience and love of having Harry figure things out on his own, they sat in dark silence for a few moments before Harry pieced it together.

"The runes and the ritual. You did change the Imperius charm!" Harry laughed, sitting back up to level with Hermione.

"Yes! With how out of sorts I was, being infected with your… your _fetish_. No, _our fetish_ , I had to do something to get my mind back on track. This is the most normal I've felt in weeks!" Hermione giggled, touching her forehead onto Harry's. "I'm sorry I've been such a scatterbrained wreck. It's just that with our relationship and finding out that I was falling for you and suddenly finding out I'm this special breed of submissive that has to give up _so much bloody control_. Oh, language." Hermione said, chiding herself.

"Anyway. I've never wanted something so much in my life that scared me this much as well. So I had to be greedy and..." Hermione shrugged, and Harry appreciated the sight of that gesture as Hermione was still very much naked.

"… and I bet you used that clever brain of yours to figure out something with runes and arithmancy to make you… well, whatever it is that you wanted. My slave but still my Hermione." Harry said, touching Hermione's face. She sighed and nuzzled her cheek into his palm.

"Yes. And let me tell you, this is the best decision I've ever made in my life, Harry Potter." Hermione said. "And hopefully, the last big one I'll have to make without your permission." She beamed, standing up and taking Harry's cast off wand at their side. With a few flicks or her wrist and a whisper of a spell, the candles were lit once more and Harry marveled at the beautiful young woman he was now the master of.

If Hermione had been dazzling before, she was absolutely stunning now. It was as if she had an inner glow that wasn't from her makeup or any other source but her own well-being. She had the same beauty that Harry had recognized from before, the beauty she had when she had given herself to the Imperius, but with a life and vigor that was still quite Hermione. A willing slave, one that was completely his own.

"I'm yours, Harry. Signed, sealed, and delivered." Hermione said, performing a little twirl to show off her body to Harry before dropping back down to embrace her master.

"Wow… I still can't believe this. You planned all of it? From the very beginning?" Harry said, marveling at Hermione's foresight. The girl nodded as she gave him a kiss, and Harry could only laugh.

"Are you sure I'm your Master? It seems to me you're the one that's been pulling all the strings." Harry said wryly, poking Hermione's forehead, at which the girl just laughed in return.

"Oh, you know very well that you're my Master, Harry Potter. I just happen to be a very helpful and insightful slave." Hermione said, settling onto his chest and sighing in contentment. It was true, Harry mused, feeling the bond again as if it were some corporeal connection between the two of them.

"Well, in that case, how about a second round? I wasn't quite in my right mind the first time and I most definitely know that you weren't in yours." Harry said, waggling his eyebrows at the girl.

"Is that what you want, my Master?" Hermione said, the freedom of having her sexuality completely at Harry's beck and call the most wonderful feeling in the world for her.

"Yes, it's an order, Hermione." Harry said, this time being the one to lean back onto the floor, and Hermione immediately caught on to what Harry was suggesting.

"Mm… your wish is my command, Master Harry." Hermione purred, sliding her leg over Harry's waist and righting herself.

It was time to make an unforgettable night not just memorable, but one to be held as an example for future nights to come.

 _ **To Be Continued…**_

* * *

A double length chapter since the wait has been about the same. Unfortunately, I am starting a new job next week so the gap in between updates may be longer. In any case, thank you for reading and I hope to see you all for the next chapter. I wonder how this installment will be received. Hermione having the same intense obsession with being Imperiused as well as realizing it equates with love for the both of them is something that I know happens enough in the real life hypnofetish community, but then again the stakes there aren't as high as with mind magic. Anyway, looking forward to reading your thoughts on the matter or pacing or any other element of the story in general. Review, favorite, and follow!


	4. Rest of the Holiday

The following chapter is more slice-of-life/filler/fluff/WAFF than anything affecting the overall story of the piece. If you want to read magical theory and upkeep concerning this universe's version of mind magic and magical slaves as well as a few tropes from regular erotic mind control fiction, I hope you enjoy.

I'll be taking liberties with the ambiguous nature of Christmas break for the year of 1994 and guess that the Yule Ball took place on Sunday and the winter holiday for Hogwarts would be a generous three weeks having the semester start not on January 2nd but the 9th instead. If this flies in the face of canon, I apologize in advance.

* * *

 _Tumescence, Turgidity, and Emissions_

To say that the days after Hermione's surrender and submission to Harry were bizarre would not have been inaccurate even if it was a bit of an oversimplification.

Hermione had the foresight to pack away Harry's invisibility cloak beforehand on the night of the Yule Ball, and it was a lucky thing too. After the rushed incantation to vanish her gown and Harry's own carelessness at wanting to be free of his clothing, they would have made a sorry sight trying to share one pair of trousers and the outer coat of Harry's dress robes on their way back to the tower. Not that it mattered, as even Filch was sprawled out in one of the broom closets, drunk as the night was long, and both their dormitories might as well have been lumberyards with all the groans, snores, and restless sleepers that Seamus' antics had brought down from the night prior.

It wasn't until the next morning that the full extent of Hermione's decision began to make itself known to Harry in ways both big and small. While everyone else in the common room was bleary eyed and could only converse in yawns, himself included, Hermione was a bright ray of sunshine that somehow only cheered up the place rather than annoy others like most morning people.

The way that Hermione carried herself was different from before, as she no longer seemed to hide or be so preoccupied with whatever she was thinking about. Suddenly Hermione was living in the moment, laughing, speaking easily and freely, and generally being a delight to be in the presence of. There was now an ever-present smile gracing her lips and the healthy glow that suffused her from the Yule Ball had turned into Hermione's natural complexion despite the fact that she was fresh faced and well-scrubbed from her girls' shower. Even her hair, returning to their curls without magic or tonic, was now wild and spirited in presentation rather than frizzy and unmanageable. Harry himself considered the changes to Hermione almost impossible.

Luckily the general consensus was that such a pleasant transformation was not to be questioned too deeply. Maybe it was just the general attitude of those raised in the wizarding world. Harry wanted to think that the difference would have been too stark for anyone to dismiss, but then again these were the people that had found matches an astonishing delight yet somehow still more of a hassle than casting elemental fire. Boys who had only ever had unkind words to say about Hermione or ignored her completely were suddenly complimenting Harry or expressing how lucky he was to have a woman like her as his girlfriend. Ron, to his dismay, seemed to grow much quieter whenever Hermione was in their presence. It didn't help matters that Hermione seemed to gloss over his presence in favor of Harry's whenever the three of them were together too. Even Malfoy, much to Harry's conflicted chagrin, had snuck a few looks at her direction in the Great Hall during mealtimes.

And as for the girls? Harry didn't want to lump them all in with a stereotype, but as far as the Gryffindor female student body was concerned, any positive change to Hermione was in direct relation to her finally having a boyfriend. The ease at which the situation was waved off because, suddenly, Hermione was more relatable for her dating him was almost insulting. Then again with girls like Parvati and Lavender directing the narrative, Harry supposed it was only inevitable.

Still, those were just the changes on the surface of Hermione's behavior. His personal interaction with her was where Hermione's full embrace of her slave identity became manifestly apparent.

While Hermione acted very much like herself, Harry noticed that she obeyed him without question or hesitation in all manner of things. Any sentence that was phrased ambiguously still brought out the normal reactions from Hermione, but if Harry said something that was a clear imperative, Hermione would look suspiciously happy for a moment and then proceed to do exactly what had been set out for her. The true bounds of what Hermione could interpret as vague or direct were still untested. Blithe had told the both of them that the runes allowing her to retain her personality and judgement had been mostly theoretical so Harry still had to watch what he said in front of Hermione.

A joking rhetorical question of 'Isn't Quidditch the best?' versus the statement 'Quidditch is the best!' had somehow changed Hermione's opinion of the game from an idle distraction to the sport of kings and the pinnacle of wizarding achievement. When she immediately asked if Harry fancied a pickup game with her and if he could teach her some pointers with that magnificent broom of his, that's when Harry realized his mistake and promptly ordered Hermione back to normal before anyone else could hear her. What disturbed Harry was the fact that, after he had told Hermione to return to her original opinions of the game, the girl had actually loved the experience of having her mind directed!

Maybe it was because Harry had such a categorical and objective resistance from being submissive that it seemed like such a foreign concept to him that Hermione was enjoying her brainwashing so readily. But afterwards Hermione begged for Harry to make the world shift around her for academic purposes. At his suggestion, she went from her thoughtful and intellectual self to wholeheartedly becoming an airhead like Lavender; she was convinced that the sky was normally supposed to be green and had nearly thrown a fit when she saw the cloudy blue outside; she even temporarily went to hating _Hogwarts, a History_ so much as a test from Harry that she nearly chucked the book into the fire at the mere sight of it before he turned her back to normal.

It was downright terrifying how easily Hermione accepted anything he said as her new personal truth, even more so now that Harry had a direct connection into her heart of hearts and the knowledge that she really did transform at his beck and call was very chastening. What was even more terrifying than that, however, was how much it all thrilled him to see her so happy to obey his commands. He found himself constantly fighting the arousal that burned within him whenever Hermione leapt to follow his wishes. He wondered if he was rationalizing that since he didn't really want to change Hermione and that she trusted him not to that it was okay to make the fleeting fluctuations to her.

And really, whenever she finished obeying she always seemed so incredibly pleased that it was hard for Harry to feel badly. Not to mention that it usually brought them both into a heavy snogging mood right after. They still tried to keep some semblance of privacy when they did succumb to the need to molest one another and had gone to ducking into broom closets or behind bookshelves like other normal amorous couples. It annoyed Ron to no end seeing them nip off or turning around to find that they'd both disappeared and Harry felt that he would soon be hearing an earful on the matter in the near future. Harry was sorry for his friend, but in an ironic twist he just couldn't say no to Hermione in her obedient state.

Another thing that did surprise Harry was the enthusiasm in which Hermione threw herself into her new life's role. That was, in the sense of acting the part as his slave rather than just taking the fact that she already was.

"Here!" Hermione said happily, plopping down a mountain of books in front of Harry that looked vaguely familiar but still quite intimidating as he sat in a corner of the common room. Intimidating enough, at least, to make Ron beg off indigestion or something related to it. Ron then promptly made a beeline towards Dean and Neville playing a bit of Exploding Snap by the fire, not even bothering to hide that he had no such intestinal pains.

"Err, Hermione? What is… all of this?" Harry said, scanning the titles and finding that most were general information volumes.

"Why, research, Master." Hermione said proudly, and Harry grimaced a bit, motioning with his eyebrows for Hermione to at least sit down before calling him their intimate names. He had given Hermione the explicit command to only refer to him as such in private, but Harry didn't know if it was the tunnel vision of the old Hermione or the hunger for subservience of his new Hermione that gave her a rather liberal interpretation of what counted as private.

"Yeah, I can see that, but what kind of research, Hermione?" He said, exasperated but a little pleased to have a familiar exchange from their pre-Imperius relationship play out before them.

"Magical slavery, of course! Honestly, Master, it's not my place to tell you what to do, but we were just talking about this yesterday." Hermione said with a sigh. That was another odd change in Hermione. While it was still a very Hermione thing to say, there wasn't a hint of nagging in her voice; just gentle concern. Harry found that ever since she replaced being frustrated with him to her outright adoration, he was actually taking more and more of her advice into account. It wasn't the first time that Harry thought Hermione secretly knew he would be such a pushover and whatever changes she underwent would only be to her benefit.

As Harry remembered all the stress of worrying that he now had to endure with Hermione as his property while she enjoyed blissfully obeying his commands and the fulfillment of her life's purpose, he realized the responsibility of owning Hermione was making him just as much a slave to her as she was to him. Grudgingly conceding that his own desire for Hermione to stay this way trumped that annoying little fact, he let the issue go and returned his attention to his slave.

"Here we are. Magical harems and courtesans of the Middle and Far East. This information was rather hard to come by. Something really should be done about how insular we are in the British wizarding world." Hermione tutted, showing Harry pictures of murals and mosaics of rooms much like what the Room of Requirement looked like during their visit filled with pillows, smoke, silks, and, more importantly, women.

"Most of them were awful, barbaric collections of muggle women under the Imperius Curse or Amortentia, Master. The poor things." Hermione said sadly, running the tips of her fingers over one of the pictures with a sorrowful expression on her face. It was the same tone that Hermione had formerly reserved for House Elves, but at least this time Harry could sympathize more easily with Hermione. He knew how heavily her decision used to weigh on her mind before she was vindicated by Harry's successful casting of the charm on her.

"Not that we need to dwell on that today, but a lesson to keep in mind for the future." Hermione said, taking one last disgusted look at a witch beating a pair of slavegirls before shaking her head and turning the page.

"Of course I did find other less distasteful things as well, Harry. Do you know what the most common description for mind magic is?" Hermione said, and Harry noting her know-it-all tone. And as usual when she spoke in that manner, Harry could only shrug and reveal that, no, he did not have any idea what Hermione was talking about.

"Misty, ethereal, shimmery, groggy, fuzzy. Pleasant is there sometimes too, more often than not, actually, but people always describe mind magic in the realm of dreaming. Sleep and, well, divination, or at least the dreaming parts of it, are so intricately entwined with mind magic that it forms the basis of all three areas. It's one of the reasons why it's so easy to slip from one to another." Hermione explained, showing a diagram of a wizard with a big cloud over his head, which Harry assumed to mean that the three were interrelated. "The Divination third of it did put me off for a moment, but in magical terms it's more of the intent of what must happen rather than trying to predict anything. The essence of obedience, whether it's to fate or another wizard commanding you through a spell, is what that cloud represents. The acceptance of what one must do or what is to happen." Hermione smiled, though Harry had no real clue as to why.

"Honestly, if Trelawny had started off with some concrete principals like this, I might have actually given her class more of a chance. Trances in that class seem to be much lovelier when you frame it in this context." Hermione groused, and Harry feared he really did have too much power over her if rethinking Trelawny was the type of musing being a slave brought out in her. "Anyway, those were just things to note. Incidents related to three would affect me greatly, Harry. Enchanted sleep is apparently very restorative and quite the bonding experience for a slave and her master." Hermione flushed, and Harry didn't know why he suddenly felt his pants feeling tighter at the thought of commanding Hermione to sink into a magical slumber. Still, he figured that if it was a common enough occurrence between slaves and their owners, it was as normal as anything else that the two of them were experiencing.

"Here. I was surprised to find that these books weren't in the restricted section but then again I suppose that this falls more under the category of the advanced and bizarre magic more than the dangerous. Some of these books are from your version of the Room of Requirement, Harry, but the majority are just from the library. I was a bit scandalized, actually." Hermione said, pointing out the title of the section.

"Recreational Mind Magic. Huh." Harry said, genuinely impressed that Hermione could find something so esoteric.

"Yes! It's all here. Remembrance play with the false Memory spell. Cheering Charms and their application for training your harem. Notice Me Not for some very creative intimacy with perceived invisibility, much naughtier than a cloak I would gamble. There are a few variations of the Confundus Charm here and there for what the author intended only for advanced partners, but I think that we more than meet the requirements for that. I'm sure we can use these to their full potential to bewitch me by the end of the summer. Even if we have the terminus charm in the Imperius for most of these spells, I think it would be a good experience to learn them anyway for our pleasure in the bedroom. Don't you agree, Harry?" Hermione said eagerly, pointing to the spines of books as she listed off the spells.

"Oh, and did you know that in this context 'recreational' is just an epithet for 'erotic' mind magic, Master?" she added, throwing off the last comment as if it were just another interesting bit of trivia. Which, to Harry, it certainly was, but it made the situation no less bizarre.

Hermione was now basically rattling off spells which she wanted Harry to use on her during lovemaking. And while Harry was more than happy to oblige, it was still strange to see her treat the pursuit as if it were some finals essay. Just another odd effect of the modifications that had been added to the original Optempero, Harry guessed. And, truth be told, while he wasn't quite grasping what Hermione was trying to explain for him at the moment, the very nature of her excitement made Harry look forward to her planning with the same yearning.

When Hermione mentioned that she hoped to one day write a paper on their findings by which magnitude of pleasure an orgasm brought about by the Optempero trumped a normal compulsion charm, Harry was very well reassured that, at least for now, he had made the right decision with his slave. New interests or not, Harry was pleased to see that she was, to use her own phrasing, one hundred percent still his Hermione.

And though Hermione's lectures on the nature of erotic mind magic and her growing popularity were strange experiences for Harry, nothing could top one single thrilling, terrifying incident that weekend.

* * *

The first thing that Harry noticed when he woke up was that it was much too dark for morning and that he was feeling incredible. The second thing that he noticed was that he felt very stiff and very wet.

"H-Hermione!" Harry gasped, sitting up and, unfortunately, breaking the seal between Hermione's lips and his length with a soft pop. Fortunately for Harry, Hermione had apparently stimulated him enough to the point of his peak. With her yielding lips finishing one last suckle on his member when he pulled back in surprise, Harry's vision turned white and for a moment he forgot everything about Hermione's transgressions and surrendered himself to the pleasure she had coaxed from him in his sleep.

"Oh! Should I remember this as your preference, Harry?" Hermione said innocently, which was strange considering the pearlescent drops gleaming on her flushed face and the unbuttoned state of her pajamas. Granted, Harry had seen more of her body already, but never in the boy's dormitory!

"Hermione! What are you doing here?!" Harry hissed, his heart racing as the fire in his blood cooled to make way for better judgement.

"You summoned me, Master," Hermione said in slight confusion herself, sitting up from her laying position and sidling closer to Harry. For a moment, the shifting had exposed more of her flesh to Harry and he had to shake his head to bring his gaze back to Hermione. Not that it did much to help the situation with his spending rolling down the bridge of Hermione's nose to dribble onto her shining lips.

"What? How could I have summoned you? I wasn't even awake!" Harry said, bringing his voice lower to a whisper when he heard Ron snort nearby.

"I… you didn't but…" Hermione said, her brows furrowing and she looked down in concentration. As she thought, Harry noticed that she was chewing on her lip, but that only lasted for a moment until she tasted a drop of him and started to slowly lick at the rest still trickling down. Harry had started to lose his own train of thought at the display and was startled all over again when Hermione suddenly brightened and started speaking animatedly.

"Oh! You were dreaming, weren't you? Blithe told me about this. She said it had to do with your urges being less marshalled during sleep and that our connection is more open as well. Then again she did mention that it was highly irregular that a slave and her Master weren't at least sharing a room if not a bed and…" Hermione began to ramble, and Harry recognized that this her lack of care was another one of the side-effects of the Imperius.

"Hermione, please. Get to the point!" he said, hoping that a bit of the desperation in his voice would snap Hermione out of her reverie as well as the hint of a command.

"Sorry, Harry. Right. You were asleep, and I bet you were having a nice dream about me. I felt that you wanted me through our connection, and I just had to come here to service you. I thought you weren't saying anything because you were enjoying it! You did tell me the last time that I leave you speechless…"

Harry groaned. He knew it was beyond Hermione's control. He knew that her judgement when it came to what he wanted was incredibly impaired. And, truth be told, he enjoyed her ministrations greatly. But he couldn't bloody believe what he was hearing.

"And you thought the best thing to do was to come here in the middle of the night?" Harry almost sobbed. The worst part of it all was that Harry had a literal manual for all of Hermione's actions in Blithe, but how was he supposed to know to ask her about how his wet dreams would affect the girl?

"Honestly, Harry. Given a choice between her Master and going back to sleep, it's obvious what any good slave would have done." Hermione smiled, almost chuckling.

"You go to sleep!" Harry said, wanting nothing more than just that. Or so he thought.

"Of course, Master. I'm happy to obey." Hermione whispered softly with a smile, looking deeply into Harry's eyes before her lashes began to flutter and she canted forward.

Harry was shocked as Hermione's body tipped towards him, the girl suddenly snoozing on his chest. Again his traitorous mind went straight to the fact that certain soft parts of Hermione were pressing naughtily against him, but his surprise helped reign in those feelings quickly.

"Hermione? Hermione?!" Harry cried, taking her shoulders and shaking her gently. All this brought in Hermione was a few sleepy sighs and the mumbled whisper of _master_ once again, before Hermione snuggled into Harry's nape and settled more comfortably in his bed.

However, Hermione's earlier lesson about sleeping spells and magical slaves rang clearly through Harry's memory. One look at how happy she was even in her somnolent condition broke any intention that he had of awakening her. Hermione was literally oozing with contentment and not just a bit of sensual pleasure at having been commanded to fulfill one of her main duties.

But Harry's attempts at rousing Hermione did have some success, though the type that Harry most definitely did not want.

"Whrgof… wussa… saha… Ha… Harry? You… you awright, mate?" Ron's voice, punctuated with a few yawns, cut through the night air.

Acting purely on instinct and adrenaline, Harry hugged Hermione as close to his body as he could and drew the sheets up over them just as Ron's outline sat up on his own bed and looked over to his four-poster.

"Fine… fine… perfectly fine, Ron! Just go back to sleep!" Harry said, trying to will the same effect on Hermione onto his friend.

"You… you sure, Harry? I thought you were… were screaming something. Were you having a nightmare about You-Know-Who?" Ron said, his voice clearing up and Harry could hear the other young man's legs swing to the edge of his bed and onto the stone floor.

Harry tried to think fast on his feet, or rather, on his back, but Hermione wriggling closer to cuddle under his arm and the addition of another voice in the darkness stopped any plan from forming at all.

"No… no… I… ugh… I think he was calling for Hermione… at least that's what woke me up…" another irritated yet sleepy voice said. Harry cursed his luck as Neville joined them in the waking world.

"What, seriously, Harry? C'mon, you wanker, bite your pillow or something if you're doing that." Ron said, disgusted, and Harry felt as if he could have been struck dead from his anxiety at any moment.

"Yeah, Harry. We get it. You have a pretty girlfriend. Just keep your dreams out of our ears." Neville complained, the springs of his mattress squeaking as the other boy tossed over in the darkness.

"Don't listen to them, Harry. You tug to your bird as much as you want. I know I would the way Hermione's turned out!" Seamus laughed blearily.

"Shut up, Seamus!" Ron muttered, returning the favor from a week before and tossing a pillow roughly at his roommate.

"Yeah, yeah, as if you lot wouldn't. Goodnight, lads. Pleasant dreams with Hermione, Harry." Seamus barked, but joining Neville as his bed creaked to let Harry know the boy was going back to sleep as well.

Harry heard Ron mumble something darkly afterwards, but then the sound of his friend flopping back down onto the mattress signaled that everyone else had enough of being awake for the night.

Well, everyone but Harry.

It was a long night for him as he lay catatonic with an admittedly very pleasant girl using him as a pillow. Only by the barest stroke of luck did all the other boys seem to clear out sooner than usual; Ron didn't want to miss the last holiday breakfast that morning; Neville was off to his first shower of the day; Seamus and Dean had woken up early to go fly kites of all things.

Hermione awoke from the best sleep she had ever had in her life to an unfamiliar ceiling and a shell-shocked Harry. After a brief tangle, and many silent realizations, the morning ended with Hermione borrowing Harry's cloak again and Harry finally collapsing into a wretched unconsciousness at the crack of noon.

One that, thankfully, did not send any unwarranted call for Hermione to attend to him this time around.

* * *

Blithe eventually explained in the Room of Requirement that Harry and Hermione were undergoing, for lack of a more fitting term, a honeymoon period. Hermione's fresh desires to obey were clouding her better judgement even with the precautions she had taken on her additional runes; the overall strength of Harry's charm was turning what were meant to be small suggestions for Hermione into full blown, irresistible commands.

"My opinion is for vigorous coupling and enchanted sleep commands for Hermione afterwards so that both desires and fulfillment will have a similar requirement until the both of you settle down. It's not as if it's too far from what either of you two want anyway," Blithe had instructed. "Again, yours is a special case, but it would be a safe assumption that the intensity of Harry's bond and Hermione's fervor will be tempered."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. The ruddy book was telling him, to his face, that the solution to Hermione's distrait and his magnetism was nonstop shagging.

"Hermione, dear, I know that the only thing that matters to you right now is our Master, and rightfully so, but you must understand that you might be inconveniencing him." Blithe soothed, fluttering up from her settee to gently speak with her sister-slave. Hermione, who looked very disheartened, had taken to treating Blithe as a new professor, and Harry recognized the same respect in her voice when she spoke to Blithe.

"I know, I know. It's just, I can tell almost straight away after that I'm going too far but…" Hermione said, tears starting to well in her eyes, her gaze travelling from Blithe to Harry. "… I just want to be a good slave for you, Master!" Hermione said, despondent.

Harry felt incredibly guilty for Hermione and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her in to lean on his side.

"No, Hermione, you're brilliant." Harry said, groping for words of encouragement. New as he was to owning Hermione, it wasn't hard to just be a decent person. That seemed to reassure Hermione enough and she sniffled a little less, smiling back up to Harry.

"T… thank you, Harry… Master. You're too sweet." Hermione said, wiping away a few tears with her palm. A new expression of consternation crossed Hermione face and she huffed after she spoke.

"Ugh… I don't even know how to address you anymore, Harry. The two words, they're the same thing in my mind now." Hermione sighed, squeezing the edge of the cushioned seat.

"Our Master has to help your magic settle, Hermione. It's the only way." Blithe replied serenely, coming back down to rest on her seat though she was looking pointedly at Harry.

"Fine then. How do I go about doing that?" Harry sighed, still rubbing Hermione's shoulders. The act was as much for calming himself down as It was for Hermione. He needed her as an anchor with how out of depth he was starting to feel.

"If you would allow, Master, let Hermione and myself worry about the theory. All we require from you is your permission and, of course, your dominance," Blithe said, then adding as an afterthought ", which, at this moment, would best manifest itself in intimacy. Hermione?"

Clueless as ever, Harry was mystified as Hermione shared a nod with Blithe, her delicate fingers letting go of the sofa and trailing up Harry's leg.

"Let's make use of what time we have left of the holiday, Harry." Hermione moaned huskily, and Harry didn't have time to question her sudden boldness. Once again, he could only wonder who really was the one being manipulated between them as he felt his slave bring his flesh to life and brought them both down to lay horizontally on the settee.

At least Blithe was right, Harry mused as the last of his conscious thoughts shifted from worry to pleasing himself and Hermione. He could already feel his magic settling against Hermione's in the same way as their bodies pressed and touched. Whatever esoteric meaning that Blithe and Hermione had for his dominance, he could feel something taking hold of him, and even with Hermione lying on top of him, he grabbed her waist and began to set their mutual pace.

Afterwards, with the young couple sticky and satisfied, Harry waved a quick _Somnus_ over Hermione's head and joined her afterwards for a quick nap of his own. Without the threat of discovery, Harry found that it did feel incredibly natural and spent the afternoon repeating their lovemaking and 'settling their magic,' as Blithe had called it.

It was a good thing that the whole debacle had been sorted out before the start of the term and Hermione was back to being herself as well as Harry was now more mindful of what his own power of suggestion could illicit. While he knew that Hermione could be the doting slavegirl of his dreams at the drop of a hat, she had a much better sense of herself as well as a balance in her well-being, whether in private or in public. And Harry figured that being more mindful of what he said as well as his own intentions when he said anything would probably be beneficial in the long run.

Probably.

 _ **To be continued…**_

* * *

I know that this is not quite a substantial chapter, but it does serve as more worldbuilding for the rest of the story. This is a brief pause before the majore deviations with canon will occur, and hopefully will give context and groundwork for everything that follows. Thank you very much for your support, reviews, follows, and favorites. I'm a little sad that my work is making updating less frequent and I hope that you readers will find the patience for it. Here's to looking forward to Harry and Hermione's future adventures, endeavors, and intimacies.


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